The Evil Within
by Riot Siren
Summary: AU. The survivors of Raccoon City strike out on their own, determined to take down Umbrella, but new surprises and dangers await them. Written in 1998 and finally getting posted in 2012. LeonxAda. Last chapter is up!
1. Only I have lived to tell the tale

_While I finish my other fic "God's Child," I decided to pull my very first Resident Evil fic out of retirement. I wrote this in 1998, right after RE2 came out. It's technically AU now. At the time I wrote this, RE3 and Code: Veronica hadn't even been announced yet, so keep in mind that: a) we didn't know Raccoon City had been nuked b) we didn't know Ada, Leon, Claire and Sherry's fates and c) we still thought Wesker was dead. I've left the story virtually unchanged from when I wrote it 14 years ago. I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

_The Evil Within_

_By Riot Siren_

_Be quiet awful woman  
Lonely as hell  
And I will comfort you  
When I can  
And give you my bones  
And blood to feed on_

_-From "Calming Kali" by Lucille Clifton_

* * *

_"Only I have lived to tell the tale"_

He is standing. And he is standing as absolutely and definitely as if he were sitting.

-Wiltold Gombrowicz

* * *

He disliked being alone, especially at nightfall. Yet he had a hard time being around people who were happier than he was. Happiness was a feeling that no longer came easily to the young man sitting in the corner of a busy Paris café. He sat with his arms folded across his chest, staring bitterly at the bright, lively scene before him. He wore and expensive-looking black suit, covered by a dark trench coat. Stylish sunglasses hid his eyes. His mother wouldn't have approved. She'd always said he had beautiful eyes. Yes, he supposed his bright blue eyes were quite stunning…like it mattered anymore.

A sudden burst of laughter from a nearby table caught his attention. A group of people, probably about the same age he was, laughed at the latest joke about America's president. The man watched them enviously. His gaze shifted to a couple flirting at another table, but he quickly looked away, disgusted and angered—not at the two lovers, but at himself.

That could have been _his_ life.

The café was becoming too busy. The dinner crowd was starting to come in, and some more deserving person would need his seat. The young man got up. He self-consciously ran gloved fingers through his strawberry-blond hair, and quickly made for the door.

As he walked the busy boulevard, Leon Scott Kennedy felt like a shining example of the old saying "nice guys always finish last." He'd never felt so alone.

Even during the worst times, he'd always had someone. As a child, whenever his father hit him (and he often did), Leon always had his mother to run to. Growing up, there'd been his older brother and sisters to lean on. But on the other hand, they'd never really understood him, never understood his outbursts and anger. What was the use of caring about someone if they didn't understand you?

Ah, but Ada had understood him. She'd made the hellhole of Raccoon City bearable. It didn't matter that she'd worked for Umbrella. By the end, Ada had seemed to want to change her ways. But she never got the chance.

_Ada…_

Why had she been taken from him so quickly, so violently? What had truly passed between them on that horrid night? Had it been love, lust, or merely longing?

For some reason the turmoil of the past two months made Leon think of his childhood, which hadn't exactly been a picnic, either. He'd been the "strange child", given to fits of temper, contrasted by moments of withdrawal. No wonder he'd turned out that way, with a mother ensnared in her own guilt and a father who'd never wanted him in the first place.

But by some miracle, he'd survived it all, and was stronger for it. And spending his youth as a personal punching bag to school bullies and his father had taught Leon a few things, like how to handle himself in a fight and endure all sorts of physical pain. Those were two skills that had served him quite well in Raccoon City.

The city…his one chance to start over. And he'd failed miserably.

He'd failed himself, failed Ada, and the people of Raccoon City. If his father knew, he'd be laughing his ass off.

* * *

Leon shuttered involuntarily. The evening was chilly, and darkness was falling quickly. It had been an unusually cold autumn, but it had no effect upon Paris' busy nightlife. He pulled his coat tight to keep out the wind and crossed the busy street. Leon and his "associates" had been in the city for almost three weeks, following leads, rumors and dead-ends. Two months had past since that fateful night in September. Two months and Leon still got nightmares.

The Seine River lapped lazily at its banks. The setting sun turned the water the color of freshly spilled blood. Leon walked this part of the riverbank almost every night. It was a small park unfettered by buildings and people, although the riotous street lay irritatingly close. From here, one could see the legendary Notre Dame cathedral across the river. The Gothic church's fateful edifice rose into the evening sky, defying the modern bustle around it. Leon could almost see the gargoyles glowering from the ancient spires and rooftops. Leaders could rise and fall, the world could change for better or worse, but the cathedral wouldn't care. Stone doesn't bleed or cry.

"I wish I were like you," Leon mumbled under his breath. Naturally, the cathedral didn't respond.

It was getting late. The moon had risen over the water, and now shone against the indigo sky. Leon sighed and turned to go. His shoulder had begun to ache horribly. The bullet wound never got the chance to heal properly. Leon was reminded of all the Demerol and scotch it had taken to survive the flight to Europe. The pain of his wound had been almost too much to bear. For a moment the evening sky faded and he was taken back to the morning after that fateful night. The memories just wouldn't fade, the suffering was still so vivid…

* * *

It was a hot morning, Leon remembered, and it was only going to get hotter. Claire had been surprised at his sudden zeal.

"C'mon, let's move out."

"Why? Is something following us?" she'd asked.

"Hey…it's up to us to take out Umbrella!"

Leon had been so sure of himself, so confident. But soon the stabbing pains in his arm had begun, and the dusty road hadn't helped.

It was little Sherry who'd brought up the point: "Um, won't we need money or something?"

So they'd headed back the the RPD headquarters, against better judgment, against sanity. They'd found more zombies of course, but they were quickly dealt with. Leon recalled how scared Sherry had been to go back. But Claire had a hunch, and she wasn't to be argued with.

"Grab some extra clothes from those lockers we found downstairs," she'd ordered. "I have an idea…" And with that, Claire had headed back to Chief Irons' office. Leon and Sherry had done as they were told, and more. They'd found some duffel bags, which they stuffed full of clothes, ammo, files, and anything else that could be salvaged.

"This all seems so unreal," Sherry said as they'd ransacked the S.T.A.R.S. office. That kid was awfully sharp for a twelve-year-old. On the way to meet Claire, Sherry had asked Leon a very valid question.

"Leon, just how are we going to take out Umbrella, anyway?"

Leon hadn't had an answer.

As they walked into the Chief's waiting room, they'd heard an explosion. Leon remembered panicking and bursting into the Chief's office with gun drawn and murder on his mind. But Claire had everything under control, as usual. She'd laughed at him, pointing at a wall safe she'd just blown open with her grenade launcher.

"It was hidden behind one of those damn sicko paintings," she'd declared proudly. "It's Chief Irons' horde! His payoff from Umbrella, plus more!"

Leon had never seen so much money. There were literally thousands in unmarked bills—enough for the three of them to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, if they so chose.

"We can't take this," Leon had said.

"Why not? Are you crazy?" Claire persisted. "There's more money here than…" then she realized. "You're still thinking like a cop, aren't you?" she'd said coldly.

"That's my job," Leon had fired back.

"Well, welcome to the dark side, pal!" Claire exclaimed, shoving a fat wad of bills into his hand. "I suggest you put your damn police…_principles _aside and help me take it."

That was the first time she'd spoken so caustically to him. And it wouldn't be the last time, either. But then, he'd still been foolish enough to test Claire's temper.

"Listen, Claire, I don't like your attitude—"

"No, _you _listen!" she'd exploded. "This is the same 'attitude' that got my brother court-martialed, so you'd better get used to it! It's hereditary!" Claire thrust her arm defiantly into the safe. "Now unless y'all want to make the evening news, we should get out of here."

Leon and Sherry had been completely shocked by Claire's outburst; they'd simply watched her take the fortune. They also took some of the dead Chief's objects d'art. Some of them ended up being worth good money. After that, it was a mad dash down to the parking garage. Claire managed to hot-wire a car and they'd sped out of the city and they never looked back…

* * *

Leon started from his reverie. How long had he been standing here by the black waters? Just then, Leon heard a sound behind him.

The snap of a branch. A sudden scuffle of feet. Someone had been watching him. Anger flooded Leon's mind. The thought of somebody spying on him without his realizing was too much. That bastard was going to get it…

Instinctively Leon drew his handgun from an ever-present shoulder holster. He scanned the dark path. Suddenly, off to the left, he heard the crunching of dry leaves underfoot. A shape was visible in the darkness—someone who hadn't wanted to be seen, but now was. The figure gasped and jumped back. Whoever it was had just seen the gun held casually at Leon's side.

"Now we can do this one of two ways," Leon growled at the stalker. "The wrong way…or my way. Which is it gonna be?"

The figure didn't answer. Instead, it ran toward the river. Leon heard a splash, then nothing. Swearing loudly, Leon backed into the shadows. No way was he going for a swim.

Back on the street, Leon checked his wristwatch. He hated to lose track of time like that.

Claire wouldn't be too worried; he often stayed out later than midnight, wandering the streets. Leon headed off the main avenue and walked down a deserted side street. He'd be home soon…although he didn't really consider the meager flat "home." The streets were nearly empty now and frigid wind bit at Leon's face.

That was when he heard it. Footsteps were following him.

Leon spun around, expecting trouble. Of course, no one was there.


	2. Series of dreams

_Series of Dreams_

And cold madness wandered aimlessly about the house.

-Milosz

* * *

"Where _were_ you?" Claire demanded.

"Around," Leon shrugged.

"'_Around_''? Is that all you have to say for yourself?" Claire was about to throw a fit. Her face had turned a bright shade of crimson. She watched with mounting agitation as Leon calmly took off his coat. Claire clenched her fists at her sides, although she'd never once tried to hit him…yet.

"Why are you so mad?" Leon grumbled. "You've never minded before."

"Someone was following us today," Claire said sternly.

"What?"

"You heard me." She seemed to be headed toward another outburst, but instead, Claire sighed sadly. She flopped down on the couch, suddenly looking exhausted. Leon had become used to Claire's violent mood swings, although he never really understood them. Claire sighed again and ran her fingers through her tangled brunette hair.

"It all started this morning, when you left. Sherry and I went out, but this guy kept on following us."

"Are you sure you were being followed?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. At first, I thought it was just a coincidence…but…" Claire rubbed her forehead, as if she were trying to remember more. "Finally, around 2 o'clock, the guy disappeared, but who's to say we're not being watched now? It really bothered me. I didn't know what he'd—"

"Claire?" a small voice called.

"Sherry! What're you doing up?"

The girl rubbed her eyes, looking younger than ever in her pink silk pajamas. A teddy bear was clutched tightly under her arm. "I'm sorry Claire. I heard voices and…I was scared."

Claire scooped the girl into her arms, giving her a big hug. "Scared of what? You know Leon and I would never let anything hurt you."

Sherry clutched her guardian's shoulders tightly. "It's not that, Claire. I know you guys wouldn't let anything hurt me. But, what if…? I mean, there's only so much you can do…" Sherry was perceptive, wise beyond her years, and the memories of Raccoon City died hard. The delicate girl had become more paranoid and more easily frightened as the weeks had passed.

"Shhhh…sweetie, it's late," Claire cooed. "Why don't we go to bed?" Sherry nodded drowsily.

The girls withdrew into their room, leaving Leon alone. He glanced around the sparse apartment and saw the yellowing wallpaper, heard the dripping of the leaky kitchen sink. They could afford more lavish lodgings, but Leon thought it was better to save their money. Plus, he wanted to keep a low profile. They were refugees now, on the run and on a mission, and he didn't trust anyone.

It was well past midnight, though he didn't want to sleep. Sometimes, fatigue was better than suffering through another nightmare. Leon paced about the small living room, glancing warily out the windows. Someone was out there, he was sure of it. But what could he do about it?

Leon felt completely powerless. He'd wanted to protect, to help. But those aspirations had died along with the citizens of Raccoon City. And if something terrible did happen, he probably wouldn't be able to save Sherry and Claire, or even himself.

Discouraged and utterly exhausted, he plunked down on the old battered couch. Leon had been sitting down for only a moment when sleep claimed him. Just before he nodded of completely, Leon heard—or thought he heard—a sound.

Probably just one of the girls, he thought.

The sound was very nearby, right by Leon's face, in fact. Icy fingers cautiously stroked his hair. A voice whispered. It sounded like…

"I love you."

Something cold and moist pressed against his forehead. Leon shuddered, but didn't wake. Footsteps. The door closed. In the morning, he would remember it as only a dream.

* * *

Claire shook her head. "I knew he needed more sleep."

Sherry giggled. "My dad used to fall asleep on the couch sometimes." She moved to shake Leon awake, but Claire stopped her.

"Nah, he needs rest. 'Sides, he looks so cute sleeping like that."

"Claire…?"

"Just kidding, sweetie," Claire smiled mischievously. The girls tiptoed past the couch, barely suppressing giggles.

"Claire, he's _snoring_."

"I know honey, I know," Managing to cross the room without bursting into laughter, Claire and Sherry made for the door.

"Look!" Sherry pointed at the floor. Nearby the doorway there were footprints made by a wet shoe—a woman's shoe.

"What the? What is this…?" Claire bent down to study the prints. "Fairly recent, from sometime early this morning." She concluded.

"So that means…somebody was here?" Sherry whispered anxiously. "Should we still go out? Should we wake Leon up?"

Claire glanced nervously around the room. "I would've noticed if something was taken. Maybe they planted a bug?"

A long, frantic search turned up nothing. Leon was still snoring away when Claire finally gave up.

"What did they want, anyway?" she mumbled angrily. "They didn't take or leave anything!"

"But somebody was still here," Sherry moaned.

"We can't do anything about that," Claire sighed. "It's scary that somebody got in here without us knowing it, but nothing bad happened. We're still going out, just like we planned. When we get back, maybe Leon can tell us if he saw something last night."

* * *

The street was already bustling when Sherry and Claire stepped outside. Shops were opening up and a nearby restaurant was already busy. It was going to be a beautiful day.

Claire tried to shake off the terrible feeling of dread she had. They'd find Chris eventually. She had to believe that. Still, their progress thus far was hardly encouraging. Claire's attempts to contact S.T.A.R.S. HQ in Washington D.C. had been unsuccessful. They'd publicly disavowed any knowledge of the S.T.A.R.S.' Alpha-Bravo operations in Oregon. Did they even care about the 200,000 victims of Raccoon City? And on top of all that, Umbrella was still very active.

There were rumors floating around, too. Claire had heard whispers of a mysterious killer stalking Europe. Six killings had taken place already all over the world, and they were definitely connected. All the victims we found with their throats slit. Not only that, but the killer had used their blood to paint the walls of the crime scene. Claire had doubted that the murders had anything to do with her missing brother, until she'd discovered that all the victims had been connected to Umbrella…

With these disturbing thoughts in mind, Claire walked quickly down the street, pausing every now and then to make sure Sherry was still by her side. As Claire and Sherry reached the bustling street corner, they passed a black haired, dark-complexioned man reading a newspaper. Claire didn't even notice him as she walked by. That was exactly what he'd been hoping for. He quickly folded the paper under his arm and followed Claire and Sherry into the crowd.

* * *

There was no avoiding it; the dreams had come again. Leon tossed and turned in his sleep, trying to fend off the phantoms of his own mind- but to no avail. The dream stared off like all the others, with an assault of moaning zombies, all hungry for his flesh. Leon couldn't run; he couldn't hide. He was done for.

This is just a dream! Leon told himself. It isn't real!

But it was real. It had really happened, and it was happening again. There was fire all around. He could feel the heat of the flames- the flames of Raccoon City. Disembodied voices howled in the night, and the groans of famished zombies echoed in the shadows. Leon knew he was running low on ammo, and the shuffling monstrosities were closing in. There was nothing he could do but scream…

Suddenly, the nightmare's dark haze lifted. Leon found himself in a vast dreamscape of white brightness. The gray sky blended in against the horizon. Soft snowflakes fell to an already snow covered plain.

_Perfect_, he thought angrily. _From Raccoon City to Antarctica. Why don't I ever dream about Cameron Diaz?_

Everything in the dream was peaceful and silent…but not for long.

Someone poked the muzzle of a shotgun into his back, forcing Leon forward. He realized that his hands were handcuffed behind his back. Leon was marched out further into the snowy wasteland. Suddenly, a harsh voice ordered him to stop. The horrible realization hit. He was going to die out here. Leon looked straight ahead into the white abyss, trying to be brave, trying not to panic.

But he was just dreaming. And normal people didn't die in their own dreams. Normal people didn't dream about zombies, either…

A pair of strong hands forced Leon down on his knees. Yet somewhere in that bleak dreamscape, a familiar voice whispered his name. He was suddenly aware of another person kneeling beside him.

It was Ada. Ada was on her knees beside him, awaiting the same fate. Ada's eyes were puffy and bloodshot; her cheeks were stained with tears and dried blood. But to Leon, she still looked beautiful.

"Ada? Is it really you?" he whispered. His own voice sounded distant and unfamiliar.

She slowly turned her face toward him. "Leon…" she murmured.

"I'm sorry, Ada—about everything." Leon told her.

Ada shook her head as fresh tears rolled down her face. "Don't be sorry. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Suddenly, a furious voice shouted, "That's enough, you two!"

Leon heard the sound of guns being cocked. Then came the final earsplitting bang.

* * *

"Ada!" Leon rolled off the couch and fell face-first on the floor. He gasped for air. Salty tears stung his eyes, and he felt cold all over. For a moment, Leon could think of nothing but Ada. She was still alive! He'd seen her kneeling by his side!

The snowy fields in his dream…people with guns prodding him forward…

Leon frantically felt the back of his head. No blood. His skull was intact. But what did the dream mean? Did it really mean anything at all?

But it was over now. Best to let the nightmare return to the same vague darkness it had come from. Leon slowly pulled his aching body from the carpet and stalked off toward the kitchen.

_ Leon, We'll be back later. Until then, don't do anything stupid. I mean it. "Luv", Claire_

Leon set the note back on the kitchen table where he'd found it. The clock read 11:30.

The same restlessness that had consumed him last night still lingered. Fifteen minutes later, Leon found himself back on the street. The day was bright and chilly. Leaves were turning and falling from the trees, and the sky was a steely grayish-blue. It almost reminded him of home.

Leon walked two blocks and entered a rather large restaurant that was far from the river. Ever since last night's incident, Leon felt he should probably avoid his usual haunts. They could be under surveillance.

He took one glance around the crowded establishment, and settled on a bar seat. Leon didn't intend to stay too long, just enough for a drink. A few minutes (and a few drinks) later, a woman took the stool next to Leon.

She was tall, with ebony skin and chiseled African features. Her hair was braided into tiny plaits that hung all the way down her back. Leon glanced in the newcomer's direction. Italian pumps, Chanel handbag, chic wardrobe, and expertly applied makeup—not too uncommon in this part of the city. She spoke quickly to the bartender, ordering in French.

A sudden beeping emitted from the woman's purse. She looked a little embarrassed as she drew a cell phone from her bag.

"Viviane here," she answered, this time in heavily accented English. "Oh, you again? I told you not to call me when I am—" Whoever Viviane was speaking to apparently cut her off. She nodded impatiently, her braids spilling noiselessly over her cashmere sweater. "Spare me your sob story, girl. You're not here to—" Again she was cut off. "You did _what_? I am _not _hearing this! There is no way I can eat a peaceful lunch after hearing this!"

Leon tried to ignore Viviane's ranting. Other people's problems didn't interest him, having so many of his own.

"No, I won't…All right, all right, I will take care of it. But you have nearly ruined everything. Do you realize that? You seem to have a knack for ruining things." Another pause. "You impulsive Americans…" she sighed. "Yes, yes, goodbye!" With a little huff, Viviane dropped the cell phone into her bag. "Americans…" she mumbled.

Viviane shot an apologetic glance in Leon's direction, as if her conversation had somehow disturbed him. She quickly gulped down her drink, dropped some bills on the counter and left.

* * *

Leon left around one o'clock, having to fight his way through the crowded street. Suddenly, something yanked Leon by the sleeve, pulling him into a doorway.

"Hey!" Leon objected, then looked up and gasped.

It was Viviane, the statuesque woman form the restaurant. She again flashed her apologetic smile, her violet eyes shining. Viviane held Leon's coat sleeve in a vice-like grip, and she seemed to have no intention of letting go.

"I know who you are," she said firmly. "I know why you are here, and who you are with."

Leon tried to free himself from her grasp. Had Umbrella found them at last?

"We've been watching you for many days now—you, Redfield's sister, and the child." Viviane said coolly.

"So _you_ were the one who followed me!" Leon scowled.

"Not I!" Viviane protested. "Here," she handed Leon a small slip of paper. "We have a mutual enemy. Come to this address at ten tonight—alone and unarmed."

Leon eyed her skeptically. "How do I know I can trust you?"

Viviane leaned toward him and whispered menacingly. "You don't." She held Leon in her violet gaze for a moment, then quickly melted back into the crowd.

Leon stood in the doorway, puzzled and stunned. He crumpled the piece of paper in his palm. It had to be a trap. Then again, could he really risk losing this lead?

* * *

"Sherry, have you noticed how weird Leon's been acting lately?"

"No, why?" the girl said innocently.

"Nothing, never mind…" Claire shook her head. Was it just her, or did Leon seem to get moodier every day? Of course he felt awful about Raccoon City—they all did. But with Leon, it seemed like more than post-traumatic stress. He appeared to carry a secret guilt; some shameful stigma that he'd hidden from the world. And it was slowly eating him alive.

"Are you gonna tell Leon about what you read in the newspaper?" Sherry said, interrupting Claire's train of thought.

"Yeah, I'll show him the article as soon as he gets back." Claire picked up one of the papers scattered in front of them and read the front-page story for the second time.

It was around 7pm, and the girls had settled in for a quite evening of reviewing leads and tracking rumors via Internet on their laptop computer. They sat on the couch, indifferent to the fact that it needed reupholstering. The scents of dinner still wafted from the small kitchen.

It all seemed quite homey to Claire, who hadn't been home in almost a year. Her parents probably thought both of their children were dead, taken by the T virus. Claire considered calling home for the millionth time, but knew it would be too hard. What would she even say?

_Hey Mom, Dad, I'm alive, but I don't know if Chris is. I stole some money from a crazy police chief, and now I'm in Paris with a twelve-year-old who thinks I'm her mother and a depressed cop. But I'm okay! How are you guys?_

No _way_ was she calling her parents.

"Sherry, can you hand me that…?" but Sherry didn't hear her. The little girl's head was drooped over the arm of the couch.

"Aw, asleep so soon?" Claire whispered. Careful not to wake her, Claire picked up Sherry's limp body, and carried the girl to her room.

"G'night, sweetie," she kissed Sherry's forehead and returned to the living room. For a moment, Claire wondered what would become of the girl once they returned to America. Would some distant relatives or social workers come to claim her?

Just then, the door opened.

"Leon, where have you _been_?" Claire felt like her life was on loop. Hadn't she said almost those exact same words last night?

"Would you stop shouting?" Leon groaned wearily. "I think I have a migraine coming on…"

"Yeah, right. A migraine. That's a good one." she snarled accusingly.

"It sure feels like a migraine, but…I honestly don't know," Leon dropped down into an armchair, burying his head in his hands.

"Look, I don't have time to be mad at you," Claire said with a dismissive gesture. "Have you seen this?" She tossed the newspaper onto Leon's lap.

"'Calligraphy killer strikes again,'" he murmured, reading the headline aloud. "What the hell's this got to do with us?"

"I've read more about these killings on the 'Net," Claire went on. "I didn't really think they had anything to do with the missing S.T.A.R.S., but now I'm not so sure. I'll just save you the trouble of reading that story and tell you myself."

"Can I just get some Tylenol or something first? My head…" Leon squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead, trying to focus past the pounding pressure in his skull. For some reason, there was a sharp, intense pain at the back of his head...

"You'll be okay," Claire said indifferently. "This all began two months ago, around the time we arrived in Europe. Some big-time Italian businessman—I forget his name—was found dead in his home in Venice. There was no sign of forced entry, and his family hadn't seen anything suspicious— until his wife happened to walk into his study." Claire paused to let this all sink in. "The guy was dead, as you might have guessed. But here's the sick part: somebody had used his…his _blood_ to paint on the walls!" Claire shivered involuntarily. "His blood! The killer had slit his throat and painted Chinese calligraphy on the walls with it!"

"That's creative," Leon mumbled, trying to focus on Claire's words. The aching had lessened a bit, but still persisted.

"Pretty perverted if you ask me," Claire sneered.

"What was the calligraphy's translation? Assuming they could read it."

"Oh, something like, 'this evil will not go unpunished.' Y'know, the usual vague psychobabble," Claire explained. "Ever since the first murder, there've been five more killings in Europe, New York City, and even Japan. All were done just like the first one, with the blood calligraphy on the walls. That's why the media's calling them the 'Calligraphy Killings.'"

"And all the victims were businesspeople?" Leon asked hesitantly.

"Yep. But this article didn't mention one important fact." Claire's voice dropped down low, as if she was telling a secret. "All the victims were connected to or worked for Umbrella!"

"Do you think your brother could have something to do with this…?" Leon regretted the words even before they were out of his mouth.

"No _way_ would Chris do this!" Claire practically screamed. "First of all he's not smart enough to think up something like this, and second, he's a idiot!"

"Claire, you're being redundant," Leon pointed out.

"Oh, shut up," she snapped. "Anyway, it's obvious we're not the only ones after Umbrella. But we'll talk about this in the morning. You look awful. Get some sleep." Claire stood and headed to her room.

For a moment, Leon considered telling Claire about Viviane, but quickly decided against it. She wouldn't understand why Leon wanted to take such a foolish risk. He'd just sneak out after Claire had gone to bed, get back before dawn, and nobody would be the wiser. Wouldn't have been the first time he'd done it. Wouldn't be the first time he'd lied to Claire, either.

He hadn't even told Claire about meeting Ada in Raccoon City. He'd probably just get an ear-full from "Ms. Liberated". Leon doubted that steeled cynics like Claire believed in love at first sight. He could almost imagine what Claire was like back in high school. Scoffing at "Romeo and Juliet" and boycotting the senior prom, no doubt.

Leon glanced at he wristwatch. It was only 7:45 but he was dog-tired. He had about three hours to burn before his meeting with Viviane. Just enough time for a nap. So what if the dreams came again? Leon just didn't care any more.

* * *

Within minutes, the snow-covered plane re-materialized out of the depths of Leon's subconscious. The dream was the same as the previous night.

The sky above was a steely, oppressive gray. Snowflakes fell from the bleak heavens like frozen tears. Leon was marched across the barren fields with a gun trained on his back, until a feral voice barked "Halt!"

Everything seemed to be moving in hazy slow motion. The dreadful realization hit him again. He was going to die on his knees…shot execution style…his body left on that desolate, enigmatic plain.

Then Ada appeared at his side, like an angel who'd fallen from grace. What had happened to her? Why was she going to die, too?

"Don't be sorry," she whispered again. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

_ BLAM! _

The world turned red, then went dark.

Suddenly, Leon felt a rush of cold wind. It was like he was floating…rising upward. Leon saw the huge expanse of the snowy plain below him. It was getting smaller, further away. He could just barely make out the two corpses sprawled on the snow. Blood was everywhere, staining the surrounding whiteness. But it didn't matter. He just kept on spiraling higher and higher, and farther away from the pain. What a wild dream. He felt like he was heading toward the good old cliché light in the sky…heading home…

"What the hell you think your doin', boy?" Suddenly, something knocked into Leon, grabbing him by the throat. The thing started to strangle him. Leon struggled, but he couldn't break free. He was gasping for air. The thing's hands were so cold…so strong. "What the hell are you doin'?" the specter shouted again. That voice was so familiar…Leon twisted around and looked his attacker in the face, and the dream quickly turned into a full-blown nightmare.

"No!" Leon gagged. "Not you—not here!"

"Oh, but I _am_ here, boy!" His father. His father was leering at him, with that usual cruel, vicious look in his eyes. "Why didn't you keep your goddamn mouth shut like the others?" Leon's father demanded. "None of this would have happened if you'd just kept your friggin' mouth shut. Aw, but you were just stickin' up for the people you care about, weren't you? How noble." The specter of his father pushed its face close to Leon's and whispered, "Remember how you used to stand up to bullies in school? How many times did you come home with a black eye or a fat lip? You were a regular hero, weren't you?"

Leon couldn't tear his gaze from his father's stern face. He was practically frozen with fear. His father always did have that effect on him.

"Remember how you used to stand up to me?" Leon's father went on, never loosening his hold on his son's throat. "Remember what happened then?"

"I've put all that…behind me…" Leon wheezed as the specter tightened its grip around his neck.

"Have you, now?" his father jeered. "Y'see that boy? See that down there?" his father wrenched his body around, forcing Leon to look at the fields below. "That's all your fault, you know. Her dyin', you dyin'. All your fault." Leon's father pointed accusingly at the two bodies and laughed. "That's your future, boy. I always knew you wouldn't amount to anything! I suppose your mother'll cry when she finds out you're dead, even though you're not worth cryin' over."

Leon tried to ignore the phantom's cruel taunts. This really wasn't his father, Leon told himself. It sounded like him, but it wasn't. And he wasn't really dying, either. This was just a dream. And dreams couldn't hurt you…

But if that really was his future down there, why was Ada present? How could she be there, unless...she wasn't dead?

"NO!" Leon screamed. "You're not getting me this time!" He grabbed the specter's hands and wrestled them away from his neck. "If Ada's dying in my future," he shouted, "then that means _she's still alive_!" With his last ounce of strength, Leon pushed the phantom away. His father lunged for him, but it was too late. Leon was free falling toward the snowy dreamscape…and away from his father.

"Run as far as you like, boy!" he bellowed. "I always get you in the end, and you know it!" But Leon didn't hear him.

"I'm not letting you die, Ada!" Leon shouted to the wind. "I'm not going to lose you again! I'm—"

* * *

"Talking in your sleep," Claire growled. Obviously annoyed, she tapped her foot on the floor and eyed Leon incredulously. Leon sat up, dazed and alarmed. That was the worst dream yet.

"Well?" Claire's voice was cankerous. She'd probably just woken up, too. "Do you always talk in your sleep? What the hell's going on in that little mind of yours, Leon Kennedy?"

"Um, nothing…"

"I thought so," Claire said with an air of triumph. "What the hell were you dreaming about anyway? Raccoon City? I heard you say something about your father." The sudden rush of crimson to his face told Claire all she needed to know. Who would have guessed that Mr. calm-cool-and-collected-cop had daddy issues? Certainly not Claire.

"It's none of your business," he said curtly. "I prefer to keep my personal demons…personal." Leon stood and headed for the door.

"Don't you dare walk outta here—" Claire began.

Leon turned to face her. "You're worried about me, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am!" Claire sighed. "I don't care if you're just going for a 'walk' or whatever. There's psychos running around out there, and…I don't want you to get hurt. Is that so wrong?"

"I, uh, appreciate your concern." he smiled, slightly embarrassed. Suddenly, he reached out and enfolded Claire in a heartfelt embrace. Claire barely suppressed a gasp. But to her credit, she managed to hug him back.

She'd always felt insecure around the guy. That was why Claire constantly picked on and insulted Leon. But she never meant any of it. It was just a lame attempt to cover her own uncertainty. She suddenly wanted to tell him that, and apologize.

_ Imagine that_, she mused._ Claire Redfield actually apologizing to somebody. He must really be something special…_

Well, they certainly had a bond; an unspoken connection that had existed since that fateful night. But this link was different, and seemingly deeper, than love or mere friendship. It was as simple—and as complicated—as that.

Leon finally pulled away, a sad smile on his lips. "I'll be back soon," he told her. Before Claire could respond, he walked out the door.


	3. He shall smite the wicked

"_He shall smite the wicked"_

The criminal does not make beauty; he himself is the authentic beauty.

-Jean-Paul Sartre

* * *

Umbrella was rotting at its core. Everybody from the black-ops division to the wackos in bioengineering knew that. Soon, they'd all either be dead or unemployed. Years of carefully laid plans were going down the toilet, all because of Raccoon City.

"Agent" Ada Wong wasn't exactly helping to make things better, either. But she delighted in the mayhem she was creating. It was a personal vengeance against the people who'd ruined her life.

She'd been their puppet for years. But Ada had a chance to make everything right again. Those fools. They'd given her the means to exact her revenge without even knowing it!

Ada hadn't always hated Umbrella. In fact, she used to be a regular employee of the month. She'd worked for Umbrella's spy bureau. The spies were quite important. They turned the tables on eco-activists and silenced would-be defectors. The corporate dirty work—that was their forte. As if Umbrella wasn't dirty enough.

Working for Umbrella had been tough, but rewarding. Ada was a damn good agent. Maybe even the best. When the Raccoon City facility went rogue, they'd sent her to retrieve the G virus. She'd gotten it all right, but it had almost cost her life.

Almost? Who was she kidding? It _had_ cost her life! Her life and her heart as well.

Ada remembered the day she handed over the G virus sample to those plastic execs at Umbrella HQ.

"You've done well," they'd told her. They smiled their fake corporate smiles, and acted oh-so-grateful. "Excellent work, Agent Wong. And you said you found this sample in Birkin's daughter's locket? Amazing. Well, you deserve some sort of reward for you hard work. You've been badly injured, haven't you? Most of your original cybernetic augmentations were destroyed, right?"

Had all the bandages bulging under her blouse been that obvious? Did her limp give it away? Yes, she'd been hurt, she'd admitted. Practically crippled, in fact.

"We're going to give you an opportunity, Agent Wong. A great opportunity," they'd said with mock sincerity. "We can heal your body, and make it better than before. The boys down at R&D have cooked up a little something called a 'cybernetic enabler.' We want you to be the first test subject. Imagine getting your full range of motion back, plus more. Much more. All we ask for in return is a small sum of days and favors on your part."

How could Ada have said no? She had nothing to lose. Why waste any more of her life waiting for her stupid dreams to come true? Revenge was the only thing that mattered.

After the first operation, she'd headed off on her own and joined up with other Umbrella spies who were secretly planning to defect. They'd made further changes to Ada's cybernetic spine and brain stem, claiming Umbrella had done a half-assed job the first time.

Since the second procedure, Ada hadn't exactly been herself. Had she always loved killing this much? Had it always been so easy? Ada couldn't remember. In fact, there were lots of things she couldn't remember.

Her parents, her childhood memories were slowly turning into a cloudy blur. Ada even found her memories of Raccoon City becoming dimmer and dimmer. It was as if someone was trying to force any recollection of that night from Ada's mind. But that was too improbable. Ada told herself that her mind simply wasn't adjusting well to its cybernetic augmentation.

Like last night. She'd been tailing an Umbrella executive named Nigel Aaronson when she'd been distracted by…something. Ada had followed…somebody to the river, and ended up jumping in. Then she'd broken into someone's apartment, and done…what? And why the hell couldn't she remember?

Did the rogue spies not want her to recall the details of her nighttime "excursions" in case she was caught by Umbrella? That would make sense.

But no amount of tampering could ever make her forget _him_. Now, what was his name again? Leo…Leonard…something with an L. She'd probably remember everything as soon as the new enhancements had adjusted.

But for now, Ada was in Paris, absolutely positive that she'd pulled the wool over Umbrella's eyes. The spies had plans for the future, and Umbrella wasn't part of them. They wanted out from the corrupt organization—a chance to build their own league of professional mercenary spies. So, they'd sent her here to do what she did best: kill. So what if she was abusing Umbrella's cybernetic "gift"? They'd abused her first.

The plan was perfect. Umbrella would never suspect their loyal spies of sending an assassin after their top execs. Moreover, they'd sent an assassin who would stop at nothing to avenge herself.

Viviane's scheme was utterly foolproof. Too bad it had cost Ada her soul to become part of it…

* * *

"So basically what you're saying," Nigel Aaronson asked slowly, "Is we now have_ two_ major problems to deal with?"

"Yes, sir…unfortunately," Nigel's young assistant answered, his voice equally solemn. "First off, there's the loss of our primary research facility in America. Although we did managed to recover some surveillance photos from the Raccoon City lab, after the Feds finished with the place."

"Feds?" Nigel raised an eyebrow. "Oh, of course they'd be involved—so long as our allies in the U.S. Government do their jobs and make sure they don't dig too deep." He sighed and turned toward his face toward a nearby window. Although Paris was a lovely city, Nigel longed to be done with this business and return to London.

Umbrella had been under international scrutiny ever since the tragedy in southwestern Oregon. The corporation was slowly being driven east, first out of North America; now they were being pressured to get out of Europe all together. On top of that, internal conflicts were slowly breaking Umbrella apart. The spies were developing their own agenda; the project on the island facility needed more funding; Umbrella's black-ops were still waiting to see their cut of last year's quarterly profits. In short, life was a bitch. Responsible for the corporation's dealings in the United Kingdom and most of northwestern Europe, Nigel Aaronson had to wonder where the next catastrophe would occur.

But being the proper British gentleman, Nigel never let his inner distress show.

"About these photos, Rolf?" he asked the younger man.

"There were intruders in the facility just minutes before it self-destructed," Rolf said seriously.

Nigel glanced critically across the table at his subordinate. "And this surprises you? Security was down for days before anyone discovered what happened. Anyone could have gotten into the facility."

"_Anyone_ did get in, sir. Take a look," Rolf slid some pictures across the table. Nigel flipped leisurely through the stack, as if he was looking at someone's vacation photos.

One picture featured a young Caucasian woman in red leather. She was glancing nervously around a corner, her face partially obscured by her bangs. At her side was a child.

_A child? _

"That's William Birkin's daughter, isn't it?" Nigel inquired.

Rolf nodded. "Yes, sir. I think her name's Charlene…or maybe Shannon. Something like that."

Nigel moved on to the next photo. He gasped. "My God…"

Taken by a camera mounted on the ceiling, the photo had captured a chilling scene. It showed the main power room of the underground facility, where a strange battle seemed to be taking place. An advanced Tyrant prototype, the so-called "Mr. X," stood over a frightened woman. She was shooting at the monster with a handgun, and appeared to be losing. On the other side of the picture stood a man in a blue uniform. He seemed to be shouting something, and looked poised to take on the monster himself. Nigel recognized the man's uniform from the reports on the Raccoon City "mansion incident."

"An RPD officer was still in alive Raccoon City? But that's impossible!" Nigel fumed.

"No, sir," Rolf clarified. "Our records state that at least one new officer was hired to the Raccoon City PD after the mansion lab affair, a rookie named Leon Scott Kennedy."

"Suppose this Kennedy chap's still alive somewhere?" Nigel mused.

"It's quite possible, sir."

"Hmmm," Nigel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Leon Scott Kennedy. Rolf, we'll make sure to remember that name."

"Sir, there's still the second problem…the killings…" Rolf prodded.

"Yes, the entire corporation is up in arms over it." Suddenly agitated, Nigel stood and began to pace about the room. "I knew some of those people well," he said solemnly. Nigel wandered over to a large pier window that overlooked the street. "Rolf, would you mind if we finished this discussion tomorrow morning?"

"Not at all, sir," Rolf shuffled the photos into his briefcase and made for the door. Before he left, Rolf cast one last glance back at Nigel. For some reason, he felt uneasy about leaving the older man alone. But it wasn't like anything could happen…could it? As he quietly shut the door behind him, Rolf decided to check in on his boss later, just to be safe.

Nigel felt much older than fifty-three. Had he really been with the corporation for thirty years? Those young bloods like Rolf had no idea what they were getting into. Someday Rolf would regret his involvement with Umbrella, Nigel was sure of that.

Staring down at the darkened street below, Nigel recalled the violence and bloodshed of the past two months.

He thought of Gianni DeMiccioni, an influential man who'd been with Umbrella since the company's founding. Gianni had been the first to die; the first to have his blood used in a bizarre declaration of vengeance. Then Bethany Clarkston, a top official at Umbrella's corporate center, was found dead in her summer cottage. An American scientist who'd assisted in Umbrella's experiments in the Arklay Mountains was then murdered in New York City. Soon after that came the slaying of Umbrella's Asian director, Mamoru Tusinnaki, in Tokyo. In late August, the body of Athenia Kristopholis, regional supervisor of Southern Europe, was discovered on a cruise ship.

And just this week, the most scandalous murder yet had taken place in Nice, France. An ex U.S. senator from Oregon had been vacationing in southern France with his family. One evening he took a stroll on the beach alone and never came back. He was found the next morning, his throat slit ear-to-ear. This time the Chinese writing decorated the sand around the body. No one could decipher the connection, but Nigel knew why he'd been killed. When the first "incident" in Arklay took place, Umbrella bribed the senator so he'd allow the unorthodox experiments to continue.

And now, Nigel Aaronson sensed that his time had come. He knew that Umbrella's actions wouldn't go unpunished forever. He'd been a spiritual man in his youth, but he doubted that this "Calligraphy Killer" was some form of divine intervention. Nevertheless, Nigel knew that someone was wreaking a terrible revenge against Umbrella and nothing—not penance, not atonement, not even God—could stop it.

Nigel paced over to a tall bookcase and picked out a copy of the King James Bible. Perhaps even now, he could still find some solace and consolation within these pages? The copy was very old. Its binding was terribly cracked, and the gilded pages had begun to yellow and fall out. If Umbrella hadn't somehow acquired it, the antique Bible would probably be sitting in a museum somewhere.

He gingerly set the heavy Bible onto a nearby table and opened it to the Book of Job. Nigel picked a random passage and read it aloud, his voice sounding small in the vast room.

"'And a spirit passed before my face; and I heard a faint breathing; and the hair of my flesh stood up.'"

As if on cue, the pier window behind Nigel blew open. The biting night wind blasted in, sending papers and curtains flying. Without even turning around, Nigel spoke to the intruder that he knew was there.

"I'm a sinner, old before my time. I won't put up a fight," Nigel's voice was even, unemotional. "For all the evil I've done, I don't deserve to live."

"Neither did any of the others," melodic, feminine voice answered.

A powerful kick to his back knocked Nigel against the table. The old Bible fell to the floor. Its binding split completely apart and the yellowing pages spilled all over the carpet. A few more gusts of wind, and most of the book would be flying out the window. A real pity, too. It was such a lovely volume…

"Just do it quickly," he murmured. "That's all I ask."

A strong pair of hands jerked Nigel to his knees. He heard a sound like a knife being unsheathed. As the cold steel sliced his throat open, Nigel hardly felt the pain.

Instead, he felt like he'd finally been set free.

* * *

Only a little time was left before that imbecile Rolf came to check on Aaronson. Ada laid the old man's corpse down on the carpet with care. He'd been the first one to accept death bravely and with honor. She was impressed. Men of such dignity were hard to find.

A sudden coldness enveloped Ada's mind. She moved mechanically, like a puppet. Getting to her knees, she pulled a roll of linen out of her small backpack. She unrolled the cloth, which held her brushes. Suddenly, something on the floor caught her eye. It was one of the pages from the ruined Bible. In fact, it was the very page Aaronson had been reading from before she'd burst in. Thoughtlessly, Ada picked a small pointed brush from her set, and dipping it in her still warm "paint", made a few deft strokes on the page. His last words would be the man's only epitaph.

She tossed the paper toward the open window. The wind quickly caught it, and the dislocated page from the Book of Job sailed out into the night. Rising to her feet, Ada walked over to one of the large room's bare walls. For a moment, she just stared at the wall with blank, glazed-over eyes. Something wasn't right here. It wasn't Ada's choice to do this. She wanted revenge, but not this way. All this murdering was sick...evil. They'd warped her mind, made her into a killer without a past or a future. She wanted to get away from Umbrella, get away from the spies, and remember everything she'd been forced to forget.

More than anything, Ada wanted to be with _him_. She wanted to remember his name, his face, his smile…

A sudden pain shot up Ada's cybernetic spine, along with the realization that if she resisted, she'd be killed.

* * *

Leon walked quickly through the deserted streets. It was a very blustery night, and it looked like a storm was moving in.

He thought of Claire, and how much he feared losing her and Sherry. Leon certainly didn't feel the same way about Claire that he did about Ada. Nevertheless, he cared for her, and wanted to let her know before anything happened. Something like his dream?

He tried not to think about the nightmare, but it lingered in the back of his mind, just like the dull throb of his headache. Bracing himself against another powerful gust of wind, Leon pulled Viviane's note from his coat pocket. The address she'd given him was for a very upscale part of town. A few more blocks…

Just then, a piece of paper flew against Leon's leg. He was about to toss it aside when he noticed the papers' gilded edges. It was a page from an antique Bible—the Book of Job, to be exact.

Leon scanned the street and noticed more pages scattered about. But where were they coming from? Another page floated down. This time Leon saw it was from an open window. The large pier window was on the third floor of an old townhouse, all the way across the street.

But why would somebody leave such a big window open on a night like this? Leon looked back to the page he held in his hand and noticed something else. Several lines of text had been underscored in what looked like red paint. Leon looked closer. No, it wasn't paint…

It couldn't be…_blood_?

Somewhere in the night, Leon heard shouting and the sound of gunfire. An enraged voice shrieked, "She's jumping out the window! Shoot her!"

Leon looked up just in time to see a female figure leaping from the open pier window. For a moment the woman seemed to hang suspended in the air. The specter-like figure spread its arms wide, like some avenging spirit, belonging neither to heaven or hell. Then, as quickly as she had appeared, the spectral woman melded into the night.

Leon stood in the street for a moment with his eyes fixed on the open window. He suddenly remembered the old gilded paper, and Leon fervently read the underlined passage. It gave him little comfort.

The line read: "And a spirit passed before my face; and I heard a faint breathing; and the hair of my flesh stood up."

* * *

Leon picked a direction and ran in it. It didn't matter where he was running to. He just wanted to get away from what he'd just seen. He'd gone about two blocks when he realized that the bloodstained page was still clutched in his hand. Disgusted, Leon tossed it aside. Eventually, as his heart resumed its normal rhythm, he stopped to see just how far he'd strayed from his original path. Within ten minutes, Leon stood before an imposing mansion on the corner of a well-to-do street.

This was the address Viviane had given him. And what a place is was. The manor was a Gothic revival, surrounded by tall trees and an iron fence. The place looked deserted, but a few lights shone in the windows.

The whole complex had a sinister air about it, which made Leon all the more apprehensive. But he couldn't let this opportunity slip away. He had to do this—if not for himself, then for Ada. She would have wanted revenge against Umbrella in the worst way, had she lived.

Leon wondered, if Ada had survived, would he be going through any of this now? Or would they be far away from all this pain, just the two of them, together…?

_Stop this! There's no use in torturing yourself!_ Leon thought angrily.

Somehow, bravery—or, rather, bravado—prevailed, and Leon soon found himself in front of the mansion's great door, feeling rather out of place. Should he knock, or was there a doorbell…?

But as Leon glanced around, utterly clueless, the door opened with a creak.

"Ah, I've been expecting you!" Viviane stood in the doorway, her amethyst gown shimmering in the hallway light. She welcomed him like an old friend, her perfect smile and violet eyes gleaming.

Just then, a huge thunderclap rocked the night air. The sky opened up, and fat raindrops fell to the pavement with a vengeance. Again, Viviane flashed her apologetic smile, as if she were somehow responsible for the weather.

"Perhaps we should continue this indoors?" she said with a short laugh.

"Umm…yeah, sure."

"I am glad you decided to come," Viviane said as she practically yanked Leon through the mansion's doorway. "I rarely entertain visitors, so please excuse me if the house is a little messy."

Viviane led Leon through the entryway into the main hall. The brightly-lit room was huge, almost overwhelming. The hall contained enough curiosities and relics to rival the Smithsonian. A massive staircase at the back of the hall undoubtedly led to the other floors. Above the stairs was a stained-glass window. It depicted an archangel slaying a demon with a spear. A rather grizzly, violent subject but still executed perfectly. Paintings hung on the walls, portraying mostly religious or mythical figures. Leon noticed that various doorways radiated from this central room, which was obviously the heart of the entire mansion.

"Wow…" Leon gasped.

"It is not much," Viviane shrugged. "But I call it home."

Another clap of thunder shook the night, rolling like a death knell. The storm was raging outside, but the mansion's walls were thick. Leon felt halfway comfortable here.

Turning to his elegant host, Leon said, "This place is really nice…But why am I here?"

"You Americans are _so_ impatient," Viviane chided. "But I suppose I do owe you an explanation."

"_I'd_ say so!"

"Viviane," another voice interrupted. A tall, bronze-complexioned man came into the hall. Leon didn't see which door he'd entered from, but he was walking toward them swiftly. "Viviane, I must speak to you…in confidence." the man spoke with a Greek accent. He seemed very solemn, and eyed Leon distrustfully. Viviane excused herself to a far corner of the hall, where she spoke quietly with the tall man. Pretending to show interest in a painting of the Annunciation, Leon eavesdropped as best he could on their conversation.

"She just got back," the Greek man continued. "Should I send her to your office?"

"No, Dimitri. Tell her I'll meet her in the west parlor. Strange…I sensed a bit of hesitation on her part. She was almost resisting."

"This could be something…serious?" Dimitri said.

"Not to worry," Viviane murmured. "I have a plan." She paced back toward Leon, a worried look clouding her face.

"What was that all about?" Leon asked innocently.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," Viviane said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "This way, please…" She motioned toward the staircase.

* * *

Viviane's private office was opulent, almost more extravagant than needed—quite like the woman herself. She offered Leon a seat in front of a huge mahogany desk. Viviane seated herself behind the desk, and immediately began shuffling through a pile of papers.

"I'll be a moment here," again, she flashed her apologetic smile. Leon took a moment to examine the luxurious office. Judging from the large windows and marble fireplace, the room was probably originally a bedchamber. A small fire burnt in the fireplace, giving the office a warm, homey feeling.

Yet another thunderclap cracked in the sky. The storm seemed to have no intent of blowing over.

"Ah, here they are!" Viviane said suddenly. "The surveillance records we've been keeping on you."

"Just who the hell are you? Why are you keeping records on us?" Leon demanded.

"A valid question," Viviane replied coolly. "I was an Umbrella spy, but no longer. I now follow a different vocation."

"An Umbrella spy," Leon echoed. Just like Ada had been…

"Yes, but for years I've been planing a secret uprising amongst the spies. Umbrella lured us in with promises of power and wealth. So far, I'm one of the few spies to achieve that goal. Other operatives were used for medical experiments, and heedlessly sacrificed on countless missions. I figure that it's time to take revenge against Umbrella. I've turned many of the spies to my cause, sending them on secret missions all over the world, with the purpose of destroying Umbrella from inside."

"So you're the one behind those calligraphy murders…?" Leon asked cautiously.

Viviane smiled. "Now if I told you that, I'd have to kill you. Don't bring it up again," despite her grin, Leon could tell that she was deadly serious. "Anyway, one of our main…activities has been trying to locate the S.T.A.R.S. and any survivors of Raccoon City. We're very close to pinning down the location of Redfield and his comrades. But we still need information on what happened in Raccoon City—information we hope you can provide. Help us, and we'll reunite you with the errant S.T.A.R.S." Viviane held out her hand cordially. "So, do we have a deal?"

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Leon snarled. "I have absolutely no reason to trust you. Hell, I'm beginning to wonder why I even came here tonight. Yeah, I was in Raccoon City. I won't deny it. But what makes you think I'm gonna tell you about all the stuff I saw there? And how did you find out I was in Raccoon City, anyway?" he demanded.

Viviane smiled knowingly. "Ada told me."


	4. Death's paramour

_Death's paramour _

…Among red laughter of glistening lips and monstrous gestures of a mechanical woman.

-Rene Daumal

* * *

This was the part of the evening Ada hated the most, when the protective guise of the assassin came off, taking with it her meager sense of identity. She had no past and, consequently, no future. She was nothing more than a breathing shadow.

Sometimes, after returning from a mission, she'd wander through the mansion's hallways until dawn. Or, if Ada dared bear the torture of solitude, she would return to her hotel suite and try to sleep. During the day, she hovered in no-man's land between life and death, shut in behind heavy curtains, avoiding the sun. Ada could no longer endure the harshness of daylight—a sure sign of her soullessness. Or growing insanity.

But tonight, she was spared all these torments.

"Viviane will meet you in the west parlor," Dimitri told her. "And take this," he handed her a large package. "It's from Viviane. A gift for a job well done."

With a labored sigh, Ada opened the box. Inside it was a gown of dark burgundy velvet, with golden embroidery on the bodice and sleeves. It was one of the loveliest dresses she'd ever seen. Perfect for a fancy party—or to be buried in.

But Viviane had already given her dozens of expensive gifts, mostly clothes and jewelry. As if little frivolities could make up for her lost humanity! Ada hardly ever wore or used anything Viviane gave her. She just tossed the extravagant presents into a corner of her hotel room. Quite a pile was staring to build up, too.

"Wear it," Dimitri told her. "It suits you."

"Fine, I'll wear it…"

Once. Just to make Viviane happy. Ada changed in one of the mansion's many spare rooms. The decadent décor of the house was really starting to annoy her. At least she didn't have to stay in the mansion with Viviane and Dimitri. Ada hated them almost as much as she hated herself. But they were regrettably all she had.

Suddenly, a large mirror in the corner of the room caught her eye. Usually, Ada avoided mirrors, since she found the sight of her reflection nothing short of horrifying. Ada hadn't seen daylight in nearly two months, and her skin was beginning to show the effect of it. Her complexion was terribly pallid.

But sometimes she forced herself to look, just to remind herself of what Umbrella did to her.

Ada turned her back to the shiny surface. She glanced over her shoulder and carefully examined her reflection. A hideous purplish-red scar zig-sagged its way down the length of her spine. She winced at the sight of it. Umbrella had ripped her open and laced her spine with metal and cybernetics. True, it did enable her to walk without difficulty, and improved her agility and strength. But could they have done a worse job sewing her up?

So this was her "reward" for recovering the G-virus. Disfigurement, disgrace…betrayal. Viviane revealed Umbrella's true motives behind the enhancement: they'd needed a test subject for cybernetic experiments, and Ada was a convenient guinea pig.

Viviane had done her best to comfort her. "You're no monster, my dear," she'd said in that soothing tone of hers. "You're an avenging angel. You will show those bastards what you're made of. They'll drown in their own blood! We'll fix you right up, dear. A few of Umbrella's mistakes can be reversed. You see, we think there's a few faulty circuits in the back of your neck. If you'll just let my people take a look, we can prevent any further damage…"

Another, newer scar marked the back of Ada's neck. She'd had no choice but to submit to Viviane's wishes. Why risk brain damage—or worse? But the scars still tortured her. They seemed to sever her last tie with her humanity, with her past.

For example, she'd always loved to wear low-back dresses. Halter style, especially. But Ada would never wear a dress like that again, not when her back looked like week-old roadkill. With a sigh, she pulled the velvet dress over her pale shoulders. It had a high back, and concealed ever inch of her shame. Why, with a little makeup, she might be able to pass as human.

_Emphasis on "might"_, Ada thought bitterly.

Ah, what a brave dream. To be human again! To be with the man whose name she could not remember. To live a life without darkness or guilt. That was what Ada wanted. But the scar on her back seethed the horrid truth throughout her entire body. It was utterly hopeless. Every day she lost more and more of her identity. But she would not go quietly.

With a savage cry, Ada lashed out with her fist, shattering the mirror with one blow.

* * *

Around eleven o'clock, Ada entered the west parlor to wait for Viviane. She would want to talk about another assassination, no doubt.

The parlor was, in Ada's opinion, the most beautiful room in the mansion. She didn't know where Viviane had gotten the money to furnish it. It could've been embezzled from Umbrella, for all she cared.

Immense satin curtains hung from the windows, and fine Oriental carpets decorated the wood floor. The ancient walls were hung with the portraits of long-dead noblemen. A lamp set on a mantelpiece provided the only light. This was a place of respite from the exhausting hatred that drove her. And death could become monotonous, even to a killer. The room's luxurious quiet welcomed Ada like an old friend.

But a subtle extension of Viviane's sadistic sense of humor had managed to infiltrate the parlor. On a mahogany table in the center of the room sat a vase full of freshly-cut flowers. The bouquet was unusual, made up of poppies, roses, and pansies. Ada knew that each flower had a meaning. Poppies signified death, roses implied youth, and pansies symbolized love in vain.

Viviane was mocking her, mocking her bruised heart and fading memories. Ada cringed at the sight of the flowers, but took a seat at the table anyway. As Ada reached out to finger a rose petal, she noticed how her fingernails shone like polished opals in the dim light. And her arms—was it her imagination, or could she practically see the bones beneath her skin? Ada paused to examine her slender hands. So white, so creased and papery…was she already that far gone?

Suddenly, a memory flashed before her mind's eye. Ada recalled the night when she'd followed a man to the river, instead of trailing her most recent victim, as she should have done. Not the wisest choice she'd even made. Ada would definitely come to regret her actions that evening.

But who was the man? For the life of her, Ada couldn't recall his face, or why she was stalking him. Yet Ada did remember his reddish-gold hair. She'd run her fingers through those unruly locks while he slept, kissed him gently, and left.

What the hell had she been thinking that night? There had to be a reason behind it, but Ada could not remember. And if she could not remember, then it probably wasn't important. If it wasn't important—if nothing she knew was truly important—then why bother to go on living? Still, Ada feared the alternative as much as she despised her situation. There had to be another way, a way to be free from the evils that surrounded her.

But deep down, Ada knew nothing could free her from the evil within.

"Ada's here?" Leon gasped. "Alive…? She's still alive!?"

Viviane just sighed and rolled her eyes. "Calm down, please. You'll see in her in due time." She was getting fed up with this imbecile American. Was he so blind that he didn't see the way she was baiting him with her deception and friendly smiles?

Obviously not.

_I'll be doing humanity a favor_, Viviane mused. _Idiots like him shouldn't be allowed to reproduce, anyway, handsome as he may be._

And yet…Viviane saw in him a latent potential. It was the bitter way he spoke about Raccoon City. There was darkness in him. Maybe he was of more use to her alive than dead? It would be so simple to turn this American into a mirror image of Ada, perhaps with a penchant for dismembering his victims?

Viviane smiled in spite of herself. A pity that she didn't need two brainwashed assassins. Her original plan would do.

"You…you don't understand," Leon stammered. "I have to see her now!"

"Patience!" Viviane hissed. "You should be thankful that Ada's even alive! I saved her from Umbrella, you see. They were using her as a guinea pig for cybernetic experiments."

Leon shuddered. What had they done to her? Would he even recognize her? "Listen, I have got to see her. If she told you about Raccoon City, then you'll understand why."

"Oh yes, that's right," Viviane said listlessly. "You left quite an impression on her. I take it the feeling is mutual…?"

"Dammit, I don't have time for games!" he exploded. "Just take me to see her!"

* * *

Viviane led him down the mansion's winding hallways, until he was quite sure that she was leading him in circles. After what seemed like hours, Viviane stopped before a huge door at the end of a hall.

She rapped her knuckled against the wood. "Ada dear, it's me."

"Oh…come on in." The voice on the other side of the door sounded feeble and small. Nothing like Ada at all.

With a ceremonial air, Viviane pushed open the door. The parlor was almost as dark as the hallway. A small lamp was the only source of illumination.

As Leon's eyes adjusted to the dimness, he saw a figure standing by a round table.

"Ada, may I turn on another light?" Viviane asked the shadow as she reached for a light switch by the door.

"Nothing too bright, please…my eyes…"

The room was suddenly filled with a dusky, yellowish light. A pale woman in red now took the place of the shadowy figure. She looked vaguely familiar to him. Curious, Leon took a step forward, but still hovered behind Viviane.

Ada stood behind the table, her hands outstretched across its surface. Her face was turned toward the table's surface, but her eyes were closed. She was breathing heavily, and seemed to be enduring some sort of physical discomfort. Suddenly, Ada glanced up, startled by their entry as if she hadn't requested it.

She looked at Viviane, then to the man standing behind her. Ada's eyes widened, and short cry escaped her.

"Leon…" she gasped.

His name. She'd remembered it at last! The man at the riverbank, the man she'd met in Raccoon City…were one in the same. Ada felt quite stupid for not making the connection before. But it wasn't her fault she couldn't remember anything. She half expected him to rush forwards and embrace her. But he did not. Why was he looking at her that way, like he didn't recognize her?

"Go to her," Viviane prodded. She gave Leon a shove, as if she were throwing a piece of meat into an animal's cage. He stumbled forward, and found himself dangerously close to the pale woman in red. "You kids play nice." Viviane said mockingly, shutting the door as she left.

Leon had a sudden impulse to follow Vivane. This was not the Ada he remembered. The startled creature that stood before him hardly looked human, let alone like the woman he'd met in Raccoon City.

She was incredibly pale…too pale. The pearly sheen of her skin and the porcelain perfection of her face gave her the appearance of a marble statue. Or a ghost. Even her lips had no color. Ada seemed frail as well, as if the heavy gown she wore was weighing her down and she might topple over at any moment.

No, she was not the same.

Or perhaps this person—this thing—_was_ Ada? Maybe the woman he'd met in Raccoon City was just a façade, and this was her true nature?

_So I fell in love with a lie_, he thought angrily.

Leon looked away from her, less she should see the pity and horror in his eyes. "I must be going nuts," he muttered under his breath.

"What's wrong?" Ada sounded alarmed, almost frantic. "Don't you recognize me? Leon, look at me! Talk to me!"

"No," he said. "I don't recognize you. Who…what are you, anyway? Did the Ada I knew even exist at all?"

"Did she even exist…?"Ada echoed softly. She was crying now. The tears flowed down her face in crystalline rivulets. But she made no sound, no sobbing. "The Ada you knew is dead," she whispered. "I'm…I'm sorry. I was sad to see her go, too." She continued to weep silently, with her dark gaze fixed on Leon's face, as if searching there for her own lost soul. Leon stared back, suddenly unable to look away from the ghastly inhuman figure.

Her eyes…her eyes were Ada's eyes, a deep caramel color that matched the darkness of her hair. They were so dark and full of pain; it almost broke his heart to look into them. Like back in Raccoon City, when she'd been wounded and dying, and all he could do was hold her…

"Ada," Leon said, taking a bold step forward. "I thought it wasn't…that maybe you weren't...I mean…oh, to hell with it."

Ada shuddered as he embraced her. It didn't seem right—a living creature trying to hold a ghost. Ah, but ghosts did not breathe; they did not weep as she was weeping now. She rested her face against his shoulder and cried loudly, without apology or explanation.

For a moment, Leon wondered if the appalling whiteness of her face was only makeup and would be washed away with her tears. This was no phantom he held in his arms. It was a person, a person he knew. She'd obviously been kept inside for a very long time. Leon had never seen anyone so pallid, except the walking corpses in Raccoon City. And her hands were gnarled, with long, predatory nails capping her fingers.

But her dark eyes denied the stark coldness of her body with their sadness and warmth. Leon had no reason to fear her. He was uneasy, yes, but not terrified. He'd already learned terror in Raccoon City.

"Why did I bother to live?" Ada said softly. But her voice held no vitality, no emotion. She was just a weak shadow of her former self. "Why did I let them do it? Why did I have to wake up and make it out of the lab before it exploded? I should've stayed and died. I should've killed myself months ago. Would it have been better that way…for you? For us both? I think so…"

"No, that's not...that can't be right. Ada, listen—"

"Life, death, what's the difference?" she interrupted. "It's all the same if you're damned. The world has nothing for a person like me. No matter what I do, nothing will change. It's all so pointless…" Ada lifted her tear-stained face from his shoulder and whispered, "Leon, if I asked you to, would you kill me?"

Leon stared at her as if she'd just slapped him. "No! Never! What kind of a question is that?!"

"A reasonable one," Ada hissed. "I'm an abomination, a monster that can't die easily. Don't let this body fool you. I could break your neck with my bare hands." At this, Ada felt him flinch. But he didn't let go of her. "Leon, please. A couple bullets to the head. Maybe that would—"

"Okay, enough!" he shouted. "I won't kill you, Ada. Don't even say something like that. Right now, I just want to get the hell out of here. I think the storm's over. And this place is giving me the creeps."

Ashamed by her outburst, Ada slipped out of his embrace and headed toward the door. She wiped her face on her sleeve, not caring that she was ruining the fine velvet. Begging Leon to kill her... She was so pathetic.

Ada was almost to the door when she felt his arm wrap around her waist. But why did that make her so angry? Did he think she was an invalid, in need of assistance? She suddenly wanted to hit Leon, to push him away. Ada turned to face him. But what she saw stopped her.

Leon was not even looking at her. In fact, his gaze was focused on some far-off point, beyond the parlor, beyond the mansion's thick walls. Perhaps he was thinking of the home and loved ones he'd left behind? His expression was so somber that it made Ada want to cry all over again. Leon had suffered, too, she reminded herself. If she felt anger over Raccoon City, then Leon felt despair. And this was hardly the end of their problems. No, this was just the beginning…

* * *

"It's a test," Viviane stated simply. "A test to see if she's really a perfect assassin."

Dimitri glared at her incredulously. "Oh? And what kind of 'test' is this? Seems like you did Ada a favor by dropping that witless American into her lap. They left an hour ago—probably went to the hotel Ada's staying at. And I wouldn't expect her to come in tomorrow morning."

"You misunderstand my intentions," Viviane shook her head. "She _knows _him, Dimitri. They met in Raccoon City. You should've seen the look on her face when she recognized him! Absolutely priceless! Oh, Ada remembers him that's for sure. I'm still doing my best to erase her memories, but she's stubborn. Yet if I succeed, then she'll become a woman without a past; a killer who doesn't remember the murders she commits. Ada will be the perfect assassin."

Viviane paced over to the piano in the room's corner, where Dimitri was seated. She watched him flip through sheets of music, carefully considering which piece to play. Dimitri was quite a talented pianist, even though he was too modest to admit it. Viviane had recruited the Greek spy to her cause because he was such a subtle character. Umbrella would never suspect him of defection. And she'd picked Ada because of her unique flair for killing. So far, neither operative had let Viviane down.

"What do you mean she _will_ be?" Dimitri questioned. "You already control her. You tell her what things to remember and what to forget. At least, that's how it's supposed to work, right?"

"Precisely," she confirmed. "Ada's been a pawn in my game ever since I convinced her to defect. Still, she has quite a lot of…zeal. I've never met a person so consumed by revenge. The blood calligraphy was her idea, you know. But recently, she's been questioning her orders, and trying to recover her memories. Tonight, she almost realized that I've been manipulating her. I sensed the conflict in her mind."

"So the American is a 'test' of her loyalty?" Dimitri asked shrewdly.

"Yes, and a test of her 'programming' as well," Viviane replied. "The chip in her brain stem is designed to stifle her emotions and suppress her memories. But those capabilities have never been pushed to their limits. With our plan near completion, I need to see if her mind can handle the spontaneous restoration and loss of her memories. I returned her to her 'normal' mental state tonight. But by daybreak, her memories should be suppressed again, and Ada's killer instincts will be back in full force. If they find that American's body floating in the Seine tomorrow morning, Ada will have passed her test. Besides, I planned to use Redfield's sister as the bait from the start. And with her protector out of the way, nabbing her will be all the easier. If my plan works—and it _will_ work—the S.T.A.R.S. will get the blame for the calligraphy murders, and for the chaos that's about to take place. We, on the other hand will get our freedom, and possession of the G virus."

Dimitri nodded, absentmindedly striking at a few random keys on the piano. He sneered at the sound they produced. "This thing needs tuning," he spat.

"That 'thing' is one of the most expensive pieces in this room," Viviane said dryly. But her mood quickly shifted. "Ah, my friend, when our plan is complete, you'll have as many pianos and tunings as your musical heart desires."

"Yes…as long as Ada doesn't let us down," Dimitri pointed out.

"Ada won't let us down," she said coldly. "If she wants to live, then that American must die."

* * *

"Nice place," Leon glanced around the hotel suite. It was quite large, and much nicer than what he was used to. Ada had probably been stationed there for a while, judging from the clothes and other personal effects strewn about. Disorganized papers and folders, all stamped with Umbrella's insignia, were scattered across a nearby desk. Leon immediately walked over to the desk, and began rifling through the files. Maybe there was something here about the missing S.T.A.R.S.?

"My, aren't we being rude." Ada sounded rather amused.

Leon dropped a folder back onto the desktop. "Oh, sorry."

"A little anxious, dear?"

"I, uh…" he tried to avoid Ada's beguiling gaze. A change of topic was in order. "So Ada, what're you doing here…alive?"

"I'm working for Viviane," she said. "We're trying to bring down Umbrella from the inside by stealing their research and—"

"Assassinating their leaders," Leon interrupted.

She nodded slowly. "Yes…but I don't know anything about that." A total lie. Ada hadn't meant to avoid the truth. But a part of her wanted to protect Viviane's plan at all costs. Nothing could be revealed, even to Leon. "Viviane has lots of other agents on her side. We're spread all over the globe, receiving secret assignments from Viviane and her second in command, Dimitri. They're horrible people, really. But I'm not doing this for them."

"Well, what do you want _me _to do?" he snapped. "You're alive, I finally found you. But…what the hell happened back in Raccoon City? Did that kiss really mean anything at all?"

Ada sighed. "Raccoon City wasn't the best place for a first date, I know. Still, the strangest things can happen in situations like that…" she trailed off, as memories of her anger and lust for revenge after Raccoon City suddenly surfaced in her mind. She was fighting to punish, not redeem. Ada shook her head, trying to ignore the conflicting thoughts. Revenge was not for the weak. Viviane had told her that. Viviane had told her many things…

"But Viv's plan is so close to completion, I don't want to take any unnecessary risks. And according to her, love is an unnecessary risk…"

"What kind a hold does she have over you, Ada?" Leon asked. "You keep saying 'Viviane would want me to do this' and 'she wouldn't want that'. What gives? Are you her prisoner or something?"

"No!" she shouted. "I'm doing this of my own free will. I chose this, and it's a life I could never share with you. The path of revenge is walked alone." Another one of Viviane's credos. "I cannot risk…" Ada trailed off, as the truth became glaringly apparent.

A risk. A folly. Viviane hadn't meant to reunite them. This was all part of the master plan for bringing down Umbrella. Leon was to be a sacrificial lamb, the Calligraphy Killer's next victim. His death would allow Viviane to take a hostage: Chris Redfield's sister. Ada had never seen the woman herself, but she was somewhere in Paris, and part of Viviane's plot. All the survivors of Raccoon City were pawns in the game…as was Ada. But she wouldn't let Viviane kill Leon—not when she could still save him. Ada looked him straight in the face and said, "I'm putting you in danger, Leon. You have to go."

"But I just got here!"

She ignored him. "Leave Paris now. Don't let Umbrella get their claws into you, too. And don't even talk to me about redemption. It's too late for that. I sold my soul to Umbrella a long time ago. The only thing I can do now is drag them into the grave with me. Now leave!" Ada begged. "Leon, please. I can't risk what might happen if I…"

"Don't talk like that, Ada." Leon tried his best to sound reassuring. "I don't care about your past, or what you're doing to avenge yourself. Whatever you're doing for Viviane, it's justifiable. I wouldn't care if you turned out to be a…a murderer."

Ada shuddered. "Yeah, right," she hissed. "Dammit Leon, why'd I even bother bringing you here? What was I expecting to happen? Do you really want to risk you life just so we can ponder our feelings for each other?"

"Sure, why not?" he shrugged. Then his voice turned serious. "I have to—I _want_ to protect you, Ada. I'd rather die than lose you again."

"You'd rather die…" she echoed. Of all the things for him to say. But there had to be a way to keep him from the approaching danger, even if it meant losing him for good. "Just…just go! Don't ask questions! _I'm_ the one trying to protect _you_, Leon. Can't you understand that?"

He glared at her defiantly. "I understand that just a second ago, you were trying to tell me that you're in love with me, and now you want me to leave. What's the matter with you, Ada?"

"Nothing a few bullets wouldn't fix." She turned away from him angrily. Why wasn't he afraid of her? Didn't he realize than she was no longer human? Back at Viviane's mansion, Leon had feared her for a moment, when he thought she as a corpse or a marble statue come to life. Before he'd seen her tears.

Leon shook his head. "I don't want to leave you alone. Not when you're so upset. Why don't you take a few minutes to calm down and then we'll talk, okay? Right now, I'd like to take a look at these Umbrella files. And…hey, is that a minibar over there?"

"Yes—I mean no! Damn it!" she fumed. "This is your last chance, Leon. Get out, or—" Ada spun around to face him, knocking into a nearby table in the process. A vase perched on the tabletop crashed to the floor and shattered into countless pieces. Ada stared at the debris field of white porcelain for a moment, then slowly, almost mechanically, bent down to retrieve the ceramic shards. She was oblivious to Leon, who'd been startled by the vase's sudden demise. He called her name, but Ada did not hear him. Strange that she'd never really noticed that vase before. It was so white, so much like her own skin…

Suddenly, one of the razor-like shards pierced her fingertip. The pain was sharp, real. It drew blood. Just a few drops. Nothing spectacular. But Ada was absolutely stunned.

Blood. _Her _blood, for a change.

She knelt amongst the porcelain fragments, totally transfixed with the little river of red dripping down her finger. Statues couldn't bleed. Neither could ghosts. But a person, a human could. And maybe, just maybe, there was a little human left in her after all.

But she had to kill Leon…or did she? Why murder someone she cared for? Still, if she didn't do it, Viviane would kill her. Ada didn't want to die at her hands. How ironic that one who dealt death so easily was horrified by the thought of her own demise. So it was either Leon or her. Viviane had undoubtedly planned it that way. Ada lived to kill. She would now kill to live.

Leon was suddenly beside her, offering his usual words of comfort. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and wrapped it around the pathetic wound.

"It's nothing," Ada muttered, trying to wave him off. "Nothing…" A little red circle bled through onto the snowy white tissue. "You don't have to fuss over me, Leon."

"What am I supposed to do, sit here and watch you bleed?" he said with a sigh. "But if you really want me to…I'll leave."

"No, don't go!" Ada grabbed his shoulder, her long fingernails digging into his coat. "I—I never meant to hurt you, Leon. Even in Raccoon City, I never meant for things to go as far as they did. But if it weren't for you, I never would…would've known…"

"Make up your mind, already." Leon's voice was edged with annoyance. "Christ, Ada, if you want me to go, I will. But if you want me to stay—"

"Yes, stay!" she cried hysterically. "Something's coming, Leon. Something awful. If you love me, then you'll listen! But not tonight…not right now. There's still time before they…before…Don't leave me, Leon. I would never hurt you again. Not of my own will. Please understand that. Never of my own free will!"

Leon stared at her wide-eyed, unsure what to say. Good God, what had they done to her?

"Ada, I…" Leon gazed nervously at Ada's mask-like face, anticipating another outburst. But she remained silent and he found a reserve of strength for her—for both of them. "I know you'd never hurt me, Ada," he told her gently, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "We'll get through this mess. You'll see. We started this together, and we're going to end it together. I promise."

* * *

_Hey gang. I'm starting work on an original novel. You can follow my author's blog at evenarian dot blogspot dot com and follow my Twitter feed at The_Evenarian_


	5. Losing to the dark

_Losing to the dark_

_The stone walk is paved with dark cries._

_-Pierre-Jean Jouve_

* * *

"I'm not worried. I'm not scared." Claire's voice shook as she spoke. "I'm not concerned about him at all. I won't let this get to me. See? This is me, not going all spastic because Leon didn't come home last night. I'm calm, right Sherry?"

"No, Claire. You're a mess."

"Huh?" Claire looked up from her coffee, bewildered. "No, I'll be okay," she mumbled.

Sherry just shook her head and took another bite of her pastry. "It's okay to be worried about him, Claire," she said. "I'm worried, too. But why didn't we just stay home and wait for Leon to get back? We've been sitting in the Luxembourg Gardens all morning. Why? And why has it taken you forty-five minutes to drink one cup of coffee?"

It was true; they'd been wandering through the Gardens since early that morning. It was now almost ten o'clock and the two sat outside of a little coffee shop.

"It's cappuccino for one thing," Claire snarled. "And how does the fact that I felt like eating breakfast out have anything to do with Leon?"

"Trust me, it does," Sherry sat up straighter in her chair, trying to meet Claire's gaze evenly. "You're worried about Leon, sure. We both are. But you're avoiding him, too. You don't want to face him because you're scared of losing him for good."

"Sherry, where you getting all this from?"

"Television," the girl said confidently. "I've seen a lot of soap operas and talk shows, and I know why you're acting like this."

"Acting like what?" Claire tried to sound indifferent.

"Like a complete meanie."

"Meanie!" Claire nearly jumped out of her seat. "I'm mean?"

"You're mean to Leon." Sherry calmly broke off a piece of her pastry and threw it to some nearby pigeons.

"Well, um…" she muttered. "I don't mean to be mean. Did that make any sense? Anyway, I never meant to hurt his feelings…much. I mean, he's a guy- they're always pushing each other around." Claire suddenly recalled the previous evening, right before Leon had left. He'd had a nightmare about his…father, wasn't it? Well, she'd certainly been less than compassionate. The guy was having a Prozac moment, and she'd cast his pain right back in his face. Oops. Maybe it was her fault that he hadn't come back last night? "Okay, I guess I've been really mean to Leon after all. And I don't think I'd blame him if he never came back."

"Should we go after him?" Sherry suggested.

"No," Claire shook her head. "I wouldn't know where to look, anyway. I can't believe it. I hurt the only other friend I had, Sherry. All these weeks, I haven't been putting up with Leon—_he's_ been putting up with _me_."

"Well, when he gets back, you can start making it up to him." Sherry said brightly.

Claire gasped. "Sherry!"

"I meant you could apologize to him!"

"Sure, Sherry," Claire sneered. "I would never ever even consider…well, maybe if…nah. Me and Leon…? No way. Not in this lifetime, sweetie."

* * *

Ada awoke in her hotel room with a strange sharp pain in her back. The buzzing in the back of her mind had returned twice as loud. It demanded that she get up and…and what? Kill? Was that what it wanted her to do?

The more she tried to remember the previous night, the quicker the hazy memory slipped through her fingers. She was nobody again. One thought now occupied her altered mind: revenge. That was all she lived for these days.

Ada swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for a bathrobe that lay crumpled on the floor. She cast a quick glance at the man who was sleeping peacefully on a couch on the other side of the room. His back was turned to her, so she couldn't see his face. Who the hell was this guy, anyway? Maybe he...

She gritted her teeth as another wave of pain shot up her spine.

_Screw the analysis, Ada!_ She thought angrily. _He isn't supposed to be here!_

Ada pulled the bathrobe over her aching shoulders and sluggishly stood up. Her skull throbbed as if something were trying to break out of it. The buzzing in the back of Ada's mind had rapidly risen to a crashing din. Waves of mental agony threatened to overwhelm her completely.

_Kill him! _A furious voice inside her skull demanded. _Slit his throat and drink his blood like the monster you are! Do to him as you've done to all the others! And do it NOW! _

Ada moved like a woman possessed. She stumbled over to a pile of clothes that lay on the floor. She knelt and pulled a small backpack from the clutter. Inside the pack were a handgun, silencer, paintbrushes, and a dagger.

Ada smiled as she withdrew the knife from her bag. For a moment, she watched the way the soft morning light fell on the blade, turning the metal into a ray of pure sunlight in her hands. Faint memories of the calligraphy killings danced in her mind. Revenge with a delightful, sickening twist. That was what her life was about. A red haze descended over Ada's vision as she crept toward the couch.

The man's face was still turned away from her. Ada wished that he'd wake up, so he could see his death coming. The dagger's blade was just inches from his bare neck.

"Sorry about this," she mumbled under her breath. "But I'm a hunter, and you…well, you're just prey."

Suddenly, the man rolled onto his back, almost knocking into Ada. She gasped, recoiling like a frightened animal. Still asleep, thankfully. Jeez, this guy could probably sleep through World War III.

As Ada gazed into the sleeper's calm face, the voice in her mind suddenly quieted. He was so handsome, so young, so very, very familiar. Ada suddenly had a strange impulse to run her fingers the man's reddish gold hair. All thoughts of killing fled her mind. With a soft thunk, the dagger felt to the floor. Careful not to wake him, Ada gently pushed some stray strands of hair out of his face. There was something very important about him…

Ada gasped and clutched her neck. No, she refused to let go of the memory. Her thoughts fell backward, past the mental blocks and cybernetic tampering.

The remembrance hit Ada like a tidal wave. Leon. That was his name. She knew him from somewhere, from some God-awful place that had been brightened by his presence. She'd been overjoyed to see him again. But her despair and frustration had threatened to spoil their reunion.

She'd even asked him to kill her, pitiful creature that she was. Ada had felt the urge to kill him last night, but she'd fought it. She must've fallen asleep. Maybe he'd put her to bed, then nodded off on the couch…

Another muscle spasm, more agonizing than the last, hit her. Dizziness and nausea flooded her body. It felt like her mind was about to explode. Choking back her scream, Ada staggered to the bathroom and collapsed. She lay on the cold tiles for what seemed like hours. The tears wouldn't stop, nor would the pain. But Ada didn't cry out. "Just grin and bear it," as the saying went. But how could anyone bear the systematic erasure of their memories, the redesigning of their soul?

Suddenly—finally—the pain subsided. She tried to focus on breathing, forcing air in and out of her burning lungs. Ada racked her brain for any recollection of the previous night. Yes, it was still there, but her thoughts were jumbled. The man in the other room was named Leon and he cared about her greatly. She couldn't kill him; Ada cared for him as well. That was all she remembered. After a time, Ada pulled herself to her feet. Still gasping for air, she leaned against the sink for support.

Ada glanced up at the mirror that hung over the sink. She gazed intently at her pale reflection, wondering just what kind of a monster she saw staring back at her.

* * *

Claire was in a halfway decent mood by the time she'd finished her cappuccino. She gave a satisfied sigh and cast her gaze idly in Sherry's direction. All around them, Parisians and tourists went happily about their business, admiring the garden's autumn colors. Except for a biting chill in the air, it was a lovely morning. And Claire planned on enjoying every moment of it.

Sure, the past couple of month hadn't been too encouraging. Claire now thought they'd made a mistake in coming to Paris. Except for Chris' diary, there was no hard evidence to prove that the remaining Alphas had fled to Europe. Chief's Irons' ill-gotten money wouldn't last forever, either. So what were they going to do—what _could_ they do—except sit and wait?

But Claire wasn't the kind of woman to sit and wait for anything. She got up from her chair and squared her shoulders confidently. "C'mon Sherry, we've got work to do."

"Claire?" the girl looked up questioningly.

"We've been looking in all the wrong places, going about things the wrong way," Claire began matter-of-factly. "We're not going to find my brother here. We've been wasting our time."

"But Claire, I thought—"

"No," she shook her head. "Sherry, our little talk about Leon made me realize a few things. All these weeks, Leon and me have been at each other's throats, while you watched Jerry Springer reruns. No wonder we haven't found Chris yet! But I don't think we're the only ones looking for the missing Alphas. Remember that 'Calligraphy Killer' thing?"

Sherry nodded. "All the victims were connected to Umbrella, right?"

"Exactly!" Claire took off down a garden path, striding forward with a new-found determination. Sherry practically ran to keep up. As they headed back toward the street, Claire started formulating a plan of sorts. "If we find the killer, we might find the Alphas. But what if the killer is—no, it can't be Chris. He not that sick, and neither are the other Alphas…I think. I hope, I pray. Anyway, if we find the killer…No, no. Bad idea! Forget it—"

Sherry tugged at Claire's sleeve, interrupting her train of thought. "Look, Claire!" she pointed toward the street. "It's Leon!"

* * *

It was quite difficult to convince Ada to accompany him outside. She had a strange aversion to light- daylight especially. Kept in the dark for so long, with only her guilt and fear for company, she'd driven herself to this wretched state.

This Ada was nothing like the woman Leon had known in Raccoon City. She was paranoid, neurotic. A real mess. She jumped at her own shadow.

But the Ada he'd once wasn't afraid of anything, zombies and BOWs included. That was what fascinated Leon: her complete indifference to the dangers of Raccoon City. But that wasn't all. It was the way Ada swayed her hips when she walked that entranced him. The husky timbre of her voice sort of reminded him of Demi Moore. And her smile. Leon remembered how he'd rambled off every joke he'd ever heard just to see if he could make her smile. He'd been mesmerized by the way her wine-dark lips formed perfectly ordinary words. And even in the midst of all the danger and terror, he'd fantasized about what those lovely moist lips would feel like if he dared to...if she didn't pull away or slap him…

_She's dead_, Ada had said. _I was sad to see her go, too. _

_But maybe I can bring her back from the dead_, Leon mused.

Ada tapped him on the shoulder. "You alright?"

"I should ask you the same thing." Leon said, trying to sound cheerful.

She seemed very uneasy outdoors, among people. Except for her face, Ada was completely clothed in black. She didn't want to expose her fragile skin to the sun, or to the scrutiny of strangers. As an extra precaution, she'd masked her porcelain features with makeup. But the illusion was hardly convincing. Ada still looked deathly pale. She also wore Leon's sunglasses, even though they were too big for her face.

"I'll be fine," Ada assured him. "I could use a little fresh air, anyway." She smiled, and for a moment, Ada almost looked like her old self. Almost.

They strolled along in silence, not really caring about where they were going. But for the moment, they were content with each other's company.

"I've been thinking," Ada said after a while. "That maybe I'm not working for Viviane because I believe in what she's doing. Maybe I just wanted to prove to myself that I could change. So when I looked in the mirror, I'd see someone worthwhile." she sighed melodramatically. "But it hasn't worked out that way…"

"Hey, I think you're someone worthwhile," Leon said, and meant it.

Ada smiled weakly. "You_ have_ to say that, Leon. You have to think that. Or else, you're just wasting your time."

Leon turned to her to object, when something else caught his eye. "I don't believe it! Claire!" An auburn-haired woman followed by a young girl suddenly emerged from the crowd. The child pointed at him and the woman's jaw practically dropped to the ground. "Hey, I'll introduce you—"

"No!" Ada cried. "I have to get back…Viviane will wonder where I am…"

Leon frowned. "Stay away from her. There's something weird about Viviane. I don't like it."

"Of course you don't 'like' it," Ada said as she headed toward the street. "Nobody 'likes' Viviane. She's a total bitch. But you get used to it."

"Hey…Ada, wait!"

She turned around, startled. An eerie sense of déjà vu suddenly permeated the bright autumn day. How many times had Leon said the same thing back in Raccoon City? How many times had she ignored him?

"When will I see you again?"

"Soon," she promised. "This evening, if...if I can. Don't worry about meeting me anywhere. I'll find you."

And with that, Ada turned and melded into the bustling crowd.

* * *

Ada sliced through the crush of people like a well-sharpened knife. She was a wraith, not existing anywhere, anytime, anyplace.

But she wouldn't belong to the shadows for much longer. Now Ada had a chance. She would meet Leon tonight; she would defy Viviane's orders and forget the pain of the past. She would be a person again.

Suddenly, a child's shrill laughter caught Ada's attention. She turned just in time to see a girl rushing toward Leon. He embraced her as if she were his own daughter. Which of course made Ada incredibly uneasy. She slowly backtracked along the sidewalk until she was able to observe Leon from a safe distance. Ada could just barely hear what he and the child were saying.

"Why didn't you come home last night?" the girl demanded.

Leon shrugged. "I got caught out in the rain."

She glared at him incredulously. "I don't believe you. And neither will Claire!"

A petite brown-haired woman walked up to Leon. She didn't look too happy.

"So, Leon," she began caustically. "You want me to kill you now, or later? You'd better have good explanation."

"It's a long story, Claire," Leon sighed. "But I think I found someone who can help us find your brother. I'd like to tell you about it, maybe over lunch?"

Claire's expression softened. "Chris…Lunch, you said? I could go for that."

The three of them walked off, leaving Ada seething in the street. They almost looked like a family. A happy family. Had Leon been lying to her?

But her anger quickly shifted targets. That woman was named Claire…as in Claire Redfield? Ada suddenly realized that her fists where clenched tightly. She felt her long, razor-sharp nails digging into her palms. Her muscles were tense, and she was shuddering with suppressed rage.

Viviane wanted Claire Redfield alive. But Ada didn't care. She was a rival, of no earthly good to her.

* * *

Ada didn't know how she ended up at Leon and Claire's small apartment. It didn't matter, though. Her mind was submersed in its killing trance. Nothing mattered now except revenge. She stalked along the small alleyway, formulating a plan. It would be simple to break in to the apartment. She would wait until they got back, and then...

A sudden metallic crash caught Ada's attention. A little ways down the street, two stray dogs were fighting over a scrap of meat. They knocked into garbage cans, heedless of everything except their hunger and competition. The dogs barked and growled savagely, as if they were fighting over something more important than spoiled meat.

Ada smiled at the chaotic scene. There was no need for direct violence. She could use the "subtle" approach. She checked the folds of her coat for the small knife and paintbrush she always kept with her. Yes, they were there, and begging to be used.

The battling animals never even heard her approach. They fought until the end, until a pair of preternaturally strong hands ended their wretched existence.

* * *

"So, you really think this Viviane lady will help us?"

"I'm not sure. I don't trust her, but…" Leon glanced up from his meal, and slowly focused his gaze on Claire's face. Strange, her features were so different from Ada's. Claire seemed earthier, more real. Her face was ruddy, and there was a slight smattering of freckles across her cheekbones. Claire's hazel eyes always sparkled, even in the artificial light of the restaurant. Ada, on the other hand, looked like a ghost in any light. Perhaps Ada had merely been something imagined, and Claire was his reality? "But Viviane's not the only one out to get Umbrella. She has other renegade spies working for her. I met one of them last night. I think she's willing to help us."

"'She'?" Claire said wistfully. "Who's this other spy? Is she the one who kept you out all night?"

"No!" Leon balked, almost stabbing the tabletop with his fork. "It's...not like that."

"Okay, never mind where you were last night," she said with a sigh. "As long as none of our money's missing. I won't have you running around-" Claire cut herself off, mindful of their younger companion. "Understand what I'm trying to say here?"

"Claire, I can understand why you thought."

"I…no, just never mind," she said hastily.

"What are you guys talking about?" Sherry asked in that wide-eyed innocent tone of hers.

"I'll tell you when you're older," Claire glowered. "There's something else I wanted to tell you," her voice softened somewhat as she looked toward Leon. "Last night, I think I might've been a little…insensitive. Y'know, your nightmare and all. I don't mean to pry…"

Leon gazed pensively at his unfinished drink, shuddered, and pushed the glass away. "It's alright, Claire," he began softly. "I never saw a reason to tell you. I mean, I just don't talk about it. Not to anyone. Not ever."

He hadn't even told Ada. She of all people would've understood his secret, being a creature of shadows herself. But he didn't want to burden her with his problems.

"Did you ever wonder why I became a cop, Claire? Of course you didn't. You probably assumed that my dad was a cop, too, or something like that. Probably thought he'd died tragically, maybe caught some perp's bullet. But he was doing his duty, and that was what inspired me to follow in his footsteps. Am I right? Is that what you thought about me?"

Now it was Claire's turn to squirm. It was true; for some reason, she'd always assumed that Leon's father had been a cop. With a name like Kennedy, the guy probably came from a huge Irish Catholic family, too. But since when did real life start adhering to stereotypes?

"Nothing so noble, I'm afraid," Leon's voice suddenly turned bitter and harsh. "My father was a good-for-nothing drunk who beat his wife and children. I always took it the hardest. But nobody thought it was their place to get involved. When I got older, I started standing up to my father, challenging his authority. I just wanted to take the heat for my brother and sisters and my mom. Sure, I was the youngest, but I still wanted to help. And whenever he got angry with mom or my big brother, I'd always try to…" Leon winced as he recalled a number of painful memories. "I tried to goad him into hitting me instead. It usually worked, too."

"Oh. Oh my God." Claire bit her lip and glanced nervously at Sherry. "Leon, I'm sorry." It sounded lame, but it was all she could think of to say.

"But that's the point, Claire," he said insistently. "I don't want your pity. I don't want anyone's pity. What happened to me…happened. I'm not going to brood over it any more than I already have. It was so long ago, anyway."

Leon felt a warm hand wrap around his. "It's okay, Leon," Claire said reassuringly. "We're here for you. Right, Sherry?"

"Umm…sure," the girl looked at Leon with a newfound reluctance. In school, she'd learned about child abuse, and other terrible things that people did to each other. Sure, her parents hadn't always been around, but they'd never, ever hurt her.

Leon glanced at Claire, a bit of his usual humor returning. "Hmm…could this be the beginning of a kinder, gentler Claire?"

"Don't count on it, buddy," her voice dripped with mock-malevolence. "Now let's hurry up here and leave. I want to hear more about this Viviane lady."

* * *

With the inborn grace of an aristocrat, Viviane slowly folded a linen napkin and laid it across her lap. She was accustomed to eating breakfast late, since she was a late sleeper. Staying up all night was a relatively small feat for her. But staying awake during the day was a totally different matter. Ah, if only Viviane had Ada's boundless preternatural energy. The assassin could function on about twenty hours of sleep per month. An ungodly regimen, but it was well suited to their plans.

With a yawn, Viviane offered Ada a cup of coffee, but she declined. "I'm not thirsty, thanks."

Viviane smiled as if she'd made a joke. "How did it go last night dear?" she said sardonically. "Was he…everything you hoped he'd be? Details, please."

Ada made a noise in the back of her throat that sounded like a growl.

"Fine, don't tell me," Viviane sipped her own coffee, carefully watching Ada over the brim of her cup. "I won't ask anymore about it. As long as he's dead."

Ada looked up, utterly shocked. "As long as he's…what?"

"Oh," Viviane murmured under her breath. Her face was an unreadable ebony mask, while Ada's turned an even lighter shade of white. "He isn't dead, then." Viviane said softly. She rose silently from her seat and paced over to Ada's side of the table. "You did not kill him."

"No!" Ada shouted, desperately gripping the sides of her chair. "I don't want to kill him. I'd rather kill Claire Redfield. Can I kill her?" Ada pivoted in her chair to face Viviane. "Please, I've got to kill her!"

"I've explained to you before, Ada," Viviane sighed. "We need to keep Miss Redfield alive for the time being. Kennedy, on the other hand, must die now. And you haven't killed him yet—"

"I could never hurt Leon," Ada blurted. "I love him!"

"You…what?" Viviane gave a short laugh. "Oh, this is too amusing. This is _far_ too amusing." Suddenly, she lurched forward, grabbing Ada by her shoulders. Ada struggled to free herself, but it was like her strength had left her. She felt exhausted, unable to move...

"You didn't kill him?" Viviane screamed. Her violet eyes flashed with rage and her smooth chocolate-colored lips contorted into an animal-like sneer. "Ada, you're absolute fool! There's no room for traitors in this organization!"

"But I didn't betray—"

Viviane struck her hard across the face, sending Ada tumbling to the floor.

"Shut up, you worthless little whore!" she shrieked. "What happened last night? Where were you all this morning? _Answer me_!"

Ada had no choice but to comply. She stared at Viviane like a frightened rabbit cornered by a wolf. If she didn't tell the truth, then the unbearable pain would surely begin again.

So she spilled out the whole tale, from the botched attempt to kill Leon, to her morning visit to a certain apartment. Viviane hovered over her the whole time, with her teeth bared like a mad lioness. What would she do to Leon? Would Viviane send Dimitri to finish the job that she couldn't?

As Ada finished her story, Viviane threw back her head and laughed, a pitiless, harsh sound that rang through the mansion like shattering glass.

"This is your worst mistake yet!" she cried. "But I think your blunder will play nicely into my game. Let your mind rest, Ada. Don't think about last night, or this morning. Forget…forget it all," her voice suddenly became gentle and soothing. "You will remember nothing. It does not matter. Nothing matters, except for revenge. Now get off the floor, dear. There's work to be done. Dimitri!" she called into a nearby doorway. "I need your assistance."

* * *

With a sad sigh, Rolf shuffled through the contents of his late superior's briefcase. All the files were top secret materials. But Rolf now had the authority to look at them. He'd been promoted to Nigel's position shortly after discovering the older man's corpse.

_And failed to stop his killer from escaping_, he reminded himself bitterly.

What was he to do now? Rolf was only an underling, promoted up from a menial assistant's job. He never expected to land a regional director's position. But now that he was on top, Rolf was too preoccupied to enjoy the view. The depraved assassin might come after him next…

What would Nigel have done in such a situation? Increase security? Flee the country? Rolf had to make a decision, and soon.

But he was too nervous to do anything except sit in Nigel's favorite chair and worry. He glanced around the large study, wincing as his gaze fell upon the rust-colored stains that marked the walls. A clean-up crew had done its best to wash away the blood, but it wasn't enough. Faint traced of words Rolf did not know still marked the creamy yellow wallpaper.

"What's the matter, young man?" a deep, refined voice called out. "Still mourning Aaronson?"

Rolf jumped out of his seat and faced the intruder. "Who the hell…Why, if it isn't Umbrella's laziest spy. How's the embezzlement going, Viviane?"

Viviane stood in doorway, an amused smile on her face. "Just fine, thank you. Although I have no idea why Umbrella gets so angry about it. What's a few hundred thousand dollars here and there? Or a couple million? It's nothing to them. I only want my fair share. Oh, you must come and visit my home sometime."

"What do you want, Viviane?" Rolf demanded. "No. On second thought, just leave or I'll call security."

She laughed mockingly. "Call them. Go ahead, call them!"

Rolf raced over to a nearby intercom mounted on the wall. He pushed a button and spoke hurriedly into the speaker.

"Security, report to the study immediately! Code red! Intruder alert!" he waited for a response, but heard only static. "Security! Code red!" Rolf called again. Nothing. No response. Just static. Horrid, echoing static. "What…how…?" he turned to Viviane, a look of pure terror written across his youthful face.

"They won't be coming, Rolf," Viviane said brightly. "They're all dead. Every last one of them."

"No…" he muttered. "You've finally turned against us. It was you, wasn't it? You murdered them!"

Viviane yawned and rolled her eyes. "Which 'them'?"

"The executives! That American politician!" Rolf shouted as the horrid realization fully dawned on him. "It was you who killed them!"

"Very good, Rolf," she said. "You do have a brain in there after all. But it wasn't I who did it, specifically. Ada, dear!" she called to an unseen cohort waiting outside the door. "Come here. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Another woman entered the study. She looked like a ghost with short black hair and ivory-like skin. The black clothes she wore only augmented her paleness. Her sleeves were rolled up the elbow, and her porcelain-like arms were covered in blood.

The woman's clothes were soaked in red as well, but her arms were literally dripping with the sticky liquid. And her hands were clearly not hands at all. She had talons, with long, predatory claws instead of fingernails.

What kind of monster was this?

"Him, Viviane?" the pale woman asked. "I killed every guard in this house just to get to this…this stripling?"

"Yes dear," Viviane said darkly. "Sick 'em."

Rolf tried to run, but it was no use. The hideous thing was unbelievably fast. She tackled Rolf and pinned him to the floor. He screamed, even though he knew no one would hear him.

"Oh, stop your crying!" Viviane commanded. "Rolf, I'm looking for directions to a certain cryogenic facility. I believe Umbrella has their last viable sample of the G-virus stored there. I want it. Tell me where the facility is, and I'll let you live…maybe."

Of course he knew where the facility was! It was one of the most carefully guarded labs Umbrella had. But the G-virus was worth more than Rolf's measly life.

Ah, who the hell was he kidding? He wanted to live! Rolf wasn't going to die at the hands of this damned creature.

"Siberia!" he shouted. "It's in Siberia! Look in that briefcase over there. There's a disk in the side pocket. It has the exact coordinates, and everything else you need to know. Now please, Viviane!" he howled. "For the love of God, let me go!"

"There is no God," the pale woman hissed in his ear. "I'm living proof of that." Rolf shuddered and let out a sob. He couldn't die like this…

"If he moves, kill him," Viviane told the creature. She glided over to the briefcase, and opened it. After a few anxious seconds, she withdrew a small computer disk. Viviane held it aloft victoriously and smiled.

Suddenly, a sickening, wet gagging noise split the tense silence. Viviane turned around just in time to see a pool of crimson spreading beneath Rolf's limp body.

Ada stared indifferently at the corpse. Rolf's torn-out trachea was clenched in her clawed hand.

"He moved."

* * *

"I'm gonna take another look at Chris' diary," Claire said. "There's something I must've missed, something important. A clue to where he really is."

Len nodded. "Sound like a good idea." But deep down, he was beginning to doubt if the S.T.A.R.S. were still alive. He couldn't tell Claire that. One of them had to keep hoping for a lucky break.

With a tense sigh, Claire unlocked the door and walked into their dark apartment with Sherry. Leon dawdled in the hallway for a moment, wondering when Ada would show up. If she showed up. If she wanted to "risk" disobeying Viviane. He resolved to get Ada away from her as soon as he could. Whatever control Viviane exerted over her-

Suddenly, he heard a shrill scream. Sherry's scream.

Panic over took Leon's mind as he raced through the doorway. Of all the times to leave his gun in his room! "Claire! What's wrong?"

Claire and Sherry were backed into a corner, a look of stupefied terror on both their faces. Sherry desperately clung to her protector, sobbing hysterically. Both were staring fixedly at the opposite wall. "Holy shit…" Claire murmured.

There in the middle of the living room were the carcasses of two dogs. Their tongues hung out of their bloodied mouths, and their yellowish eyes stared blankly into space. They'd been drained of blood, and the crimson liquid now decorated the walls. Someone had painted it on with great skill, in broad, artistic strokes. But it was not a pattern; it was words, written in Chinese calligraphy. A saline stink hung in the air like a curse. The living room had been turned into a charnel house.

"How did this maniac find us?" Claire cried. "What're we going to _do_?" She stared anxiously at Leon, her gray eyes full of fright and anger.

"Calm down, both of you! Calm down!" Leon shouted. He had to stay in control of the situation and remember his training. Never panic, never let fear get the upper hand. Stay cool. There had to be a reasonable explanation for this.

Viviane was connected somehow. She was behind the murders. She was manipulating Ada. "Wait here," he said. "Don't touch anything!"

Leon carefully stepped around the dead dogs and went into an adjacent room. It was, in theory, supposed to be his bedroom, although he rarely slept there. It was nothing special, just a place to store his stuff. Even though the room was dark, Leon sensed that everything was just as he'd left it, with clothes and other junk strewn about, and his trusty H&K handgun lying on a small table.

He flicked on the light, and nearly jumped through the ceiling. The dogs' blood was smeared across the far wall, this time in English. The writing said: YOU BELONG TO ME.

Leon stared at the crimson words, too stunned to move or cry out. So it was all tied together. Ada was after revenge. Viviane wanted power. She was somehow controlling Ada, and had turned her into the creature he'd met last night. Ada claimed no involvement in the calligraphy murders. But she'd lied to him. Her "missions" for Viviane were assassinations. And the way she carried them out! The woman was a goddamn psychopathic murderer.

And he really had fallen in love with a lie.

Leon suddenly felt lightheaded. His vision blurred, and a sudden flash of white passed before his eyes. Like a whiteout in a snowstorm. Snow. Blood on the snow…

With an anguished groan, Leon leaned against the doorframe for support. It just couldn't be. He trusted Ada.

Yet the truth was right here before his eyes. It was the only possible explanation. Leon grabbed the gun and tucked it inside his coat. "Claire, it's not safe here," he said, rushing toward the door. "Grab the money and get Sherry out of here. Go to a hotel, or someplace where there's lots of people."

"No!" Claire grabbed his shoulder, pulling Leon back into the blood stained room. "What if this psycho comes back? I only have my little Beretta to fight him with. And just where do you think you're going, anyway?"

"I have some loose ends to tie up," he said coolly. "I'll be back soon."

"Stop saying that!" Claire yelled. "Stop leaving me out of everything! I know you're just trying to protect me. But I don't want or need to be protected! I just want…I want to help you, Leon."

Leon looked at her sadly, realizing that this might be the last time he saw Claire and Sherry. But he had to find the truth and save Ada. Rather, he needed to decide if she was truly worth saving. "Claire, listen to me. Just this one time, listen to me! I know what's going on here. I have to stop the people responsible for this."

"Then let me help you!" Claire insisted. "Dammit Leon, stop trying to be a hero. You'll end up dead!"

"Maybe I will," he shrugged. "But I have to do this. If I don't, who knows what they'll…" Leon trailed off when he saw the tears glistening in Claire's eyes.

"Do whatever you think is best," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Look, you're making me cry here. Just try to come back to us alive, okay?"

Leon smiled slightly and kissed Claire on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, Claire. And Sherry, too. Look after each other. You don't need me to protect you. You never did." He shut the door quietly as he left, enclosing Claire and Sherry in the ruined apartment.

Sherry waved goodbye weakly before crumpling into her guardian's arms. "Claire, Claire…what's going to happen to us?"

"Everything's going to be okay," she responded soothingly. "We should—"

The electric ring of a phone suddenly invaded the room's tomb-like atmosphere. Claire started. She'd almost forgotten that they had a phone. It came with the apartment, but they never used it, and no one had ever called before…

She approached the table where the phone sat, and slowly picked up the receiver. "Hello?" Claire said quietly.

"Claire?" the voice on the other end sounded distant, like it was coming from the bottom of a well. It was a man's voice, hoarse and strained. He coughed, a wheezing sound. A smoker's cough. "Claire?" he asked again. "Is that you?"

"Chris!" she shouted frantically into the phone. "My God…CHRIS!"

* * *

A light snow, the first snow of the season, had come to Paris. Leon stared vacantly at the frozen flakes as they floated to the ground. He didn't have time to brood over the fact that his recurring nightmare seemed to be turning into his reality. The dream was already stalking Leon's tired mind. This was no time to give in to visions and terrors.

Besides, this snow would melt by tomorrow morning. Ada's betrayal would not disappear so easily.

Leon strode up the mansion's front door and knocked loudly. No answer. He scowled at the dark wood, and gave the door an angry shove. To his surprise, it opened. It had to be a trap. But Leon didn't care. He was going to settle this, one way or another.

The main hall echoed with his heavy footsteps. Leon glared spitefully at the room's decadent finery. Did other Umbrella employees live in such splendor? If so, then the renegade spies were no better than the company they sought to destroy. Everything Umbrella touched turned to poison. Including Ada.

He circled the hall, looking for access into other rooms, but all the doors were locked. Obviously a trap. A feeling of dread slowly encroached on Leon's mind. His heartbeat quickened as he wiped a film of cold sweat from his brow.

_Alright, let's not panic_, Leon thought frantically. _You've been in situations like this before. Panic and you'll lose control. Remember why you're here! _

And why was he here? To save Ada? To find out the truth? But there was no kernel of truth in the middle of this mess. It was just lie perpetuating lie after lie. He never should've left Claire and Sherry alone. He had to get out of this damned house!

Leon backtracked through the entrance hallway. But the front door wouldn't open! He tugged desperately at the doorknob in vain. Maybe he could shoot the lock…no, with a solid iron lock like that, the bullet would ricochet. There was nowhere to go. Leon was utterly trapped. But there was still a chance to survive. Whatever these spies wanted from him, it may be worth it to keep his life.

Drawing in an anxious breath, he headed back into the main hall.

Viviane was there. He heard her before he saw her. She descended the main staircase with soft, deliberate steps. Her long layered skirts rustled as she moved, sounding almost like a bird flapping its wings. Viviane tossed her braided locks behind her shoulder and cast her electric gaze toward Leon.

She smiled her dazzling apologetic smile.

"I knew you would come," Viviane said impassively. "Ada—your dear, precious Ada—told me everything. Her little stunt at your flat must've caught you attention. Oh, she does have a flare for such things. Killing, I mean."

"Shut up!" Leon drew his handgun and pointed it at Viviane's forehead. "Shut up, you goddamn bitch! Where's Ada?!"

Viviane frowned. "Come now, that's not fitting language. And pointing a gun at a lady's head…where are your manners? Let's discuss this like mature adults. If you want to see Ada, she's busy right now. She got blood all over herself, you see. Rather messy business."

"Well, where the hell is—"

"I wonder if Dimitri would run upstairs and get her," she interrupted. "Oh, wait he's not here. I sent him to…that is; he should be arriving there soon. You see if it weren't for you coming here tonight, I never would've gotten my chance to nab my hostage. Oh, don't look so dense! Haven't you figured it our by now? I needed you out of the way. Soon, you'll be dead. And Miss Redfield will be joining me as live bait."

"You're lying!" Leon hissed. But he knew she was not. Live bait? What the hell was Viviane planning to do? Just when Claire and Sherry needed him the most, he abandoned them for the false love of a murderess.

Viviane laughed softly. "Put the gun down, Mr. Kennedy. Shooting me will only lead to your end all the faster. Oh, speaking of guns…" her voice suddenly dropped to a near whisper. "I hope Dimitri remembered a silencer. Not all of you were part of my plan, you see. I don't need any extra weight slowing me down. Oh, I assure you, the child will not even know what hit her."

"NO!" Leon aimed straight at Viviane's gleaming grin and squeezed the trigger. But the bullet never reached its destination. His target disappeared in a blur of silk and flying braids. Chunks of stone burst from the wall as the bullet struck it.

Viviane lay on the marble floor, completely unscathed. A dark figure crouched over her. Leon stared furiously at Viviane, and the strange newcomer who'd pushed her out of harm's way. The creature was dressed in black and had the proportions of a human. It made a low panting sound as it breathed, like an animal.

Viviane smiled up at Leon, and whispered, "Nice try. Now it's our turn." Slowly, the shadowy thing turned to face Leon, and made a harsh growling noise.

Acting on instinct, Leon aimed at the thing and fired again. The creature sprang out of the bullet's path and darted toward Leon. It was like a shadow, impossible to hold or hit. It feigned to the left, then suddenly lashed out with a clawed hand, tearing the gun form his hand and throwing it out of reach. Leon couldn't react fast enough. This creature was too swift, impossibly strong. It punched him in the stomach, knocking Leon to his knees. A second blow sent him sprawling to the ground.

Ever dignified, Viviane picked herself up from the cold marble floor and congratulated her protector. "Thank you, dear. Impeccable timing, as usual."

"He meant to kill you," the shadow murmured. "Who is he?"

Leon rolled onto his side and tried to stand up. But his legs refused to move. He felt like he'd just been beat up by his entire high school football team. Then run over by the team captain's pick up truck. Slowly, Leon raised his head to look at his assailant. It was Ada.

"No!" he cried. "Ada, you lied to me! You psycho bitch!"

"How does he know my name?" Ada queried. Viviane shrugged and smiled innocently. "Well," she continued. "Whoever you are, you won't live long enough to regret insulting me." With a few quick strides, she closed the space between them. Leon desperately tired to get to his feet, but Ada kicked him in the ribs. His cries of pain echoed through the hall, bouncing off every surface and redoubling in volume.

"Ada…why?" Leon begged. "Why did you do this to me? I love you…" He stared coughing fiercely, and gasped for breath.

"Mister, I don't know what the hell you're talking about," she hissed. "I've never seen you before in my life!" Ada turned to Viviane. "Should I kill this one, too?"

"Let's wait to hear from Dimitri," she responded coolly. "We'll sedate him…for now."

Leon rolled onto his side, still laboring to breathe. The pain throbbed without shape or limit. It even hurt to think. He still couldn't believe it. Claire used as bait in some twisted scheme. And sweet, innocent Sherry was dead. Sherry, who he cared for like she was his own daughter.

But there was no time to grieve. He had to get out of this mess. Avenge Claire and Sherry. Struggling to his knees, he shouted, "Ada, listen to me! I'm begging you…realize what you're doing! She's controlling you somehow!"

Ada stared at him for a moment, her expression cold and unreadable. Suddenly, she furrowed her brow, seemingly confused. "You…beg?" Ada's voice wavered, almost cracking. "Viviane, what's going on? Who is he?" She stared intently at Leon's face, her own expression growing more confused with each passing moment. "Viv, I…I think _do_ know this man. I don't know how, but…"

The other woman stared sternly at Leon. "You do _not_ know him, Ada. He's the one who is lying." Viviane was suddenly at Leon's side, towering over him like a monolith. "Be a dear and hold him down, would you?"

Without a word, Ada slammed Leon face-down onto the floor. The stone felt cold against his face. Almost like ice. Or maybe snow? Ada was holding his shoulders tightly. Too tightly. How could she look so pathetically weak, and still have this unbelievable strength? There was no use struggling. At any moment, he expected to hear joints popping out of place.

Leon squeezed his eyes shut and hissed, "You'll pay for this...both of you! I'll kill you with my bare hands if I have to!"

"Oh, I'm sure you will," Viviane said mockingly. Leon felt a sharp pain against the side of his neck. He gasped, but stopped himself from crying out. "Oops," she laughed.

A cold shudder passed through Leon's body. His mind went blank.

* * *

He felt like he was submerged in an ocean of darkness, unable to see or breathe. But Leon wasn't dead. The dull allover ache in his body told him that. And the voices echoing through the darkness were hardly the Heavenly Host.

"…Gone! This can't be!"

"When I arrived, there was no sign of them…"

"Both were gone? Impossible!"

They had to be talking about Claire and Sherry. They'd escaped in time, thank God. Leon would've laughed in his captors' faces, had he been able.

"What if…" a disembodied voice continued. "What if the S.T.A.R.S. disobeyed us and tried to track down Miss Redfield themselves?"

"But I told them to wait for our instructions!"

"Do you honestly think they would've listened?"

"We can still make this work! So we'll need Kennedy alive…unfortunately. Ada, stop sulking! Get over here! Now—"

The harsh sounds of an argument erupted. "…I won't let you!"

"You have no choice."

"There's always a choice, Viviane! I choose not to listen to you lies anymore. What your choice?"

"How dare you!"

Even in his drugged state, Leon recognized the sounds of a fight. A woman shouted. Someone fell to the floor. The sound of sobbing invaded the darkness.

"That ought to put you in your place!" a voice roared. "You belong to me Ada. Never forget that. Now, do as I told you! Take him…get ready to leave…"

The weeping got closer as a shaking arm lifted Leon from the floor. For what seemed like hours, he was half-dragged, half-carried though the mansion. A cold blast of night air hit his face. Outside. The sound of a car engine. All the while, the pathetic wails permeated his ears. Droplets of water were falling on his face. Warm, salty water. Tears? Rain?

"Hail Mary…Mother of God," someone was praying in a weak, trembling voice. Leon had heard that prayer many times before, in church with his family. "Help us now, and at our hour of our death…" He remembered his father slapping his shoulder, ordering him to sit up straight.

_Show a little respect, boy. You're in the Lord's House._

All those years ago…


	6. The twisted road

_Hey everyone! My novel-in-progress now has a Facebook fanpage. Find it at www dot facebook dot com slash theevenarian_

"_Like" it and you'll be the first to read excerpts when they become available!_

* * *

_The twisted road_

Time is a man, space is a woman, and her masculine portion is death.

-William Blake

* * *

"What kind of a sadist designed this place?" Barry Burton stroked his coarse beard as he glanced around the mansion's main hall. "Reminds me of the Spencer place back in the Arklay Mountains. And that's not a good thing." In truth, it really wasn't similar to the Spencer estate. This house's decor was even older, dipping back beyond the Victorian era.

"At least there aren't any zombies," Claire said as she the large room with her rain-gray eyes, feeling slightly envious of whoever lived there.

The older man snorted. "Yeah, at least. Well, I still don't like it." Barry unhooked the radio from his belt and brought it to his face.

"Chris, ol' buddy, find anything yet? I'm getting a might antsy waiting around down here…"

Claire leaned over Barry' shoulder and added, "So am I!"

"Jeez, what's your problem, sis?" Chris Redfield's gruff voice emitted from the small radio. "Got a hot date or something?" Claire could almost see her brother's mocking smile.

"No…" she murmured.

"Then stay put," Chris commanded. "Rebecca's almost done looking through the files we found upstairs. There's some pretty interesting stuff here. And radio Jill outside. Tell her to bring the car around. We're almost ready to leave. Over and out."

Barry clipped the walkie-talkie back onto his belt. "Chris is right," he said.

"Of course," Claire sighed. "He's always right."

"No—I mean about how nervous you're acting," he clarified. "I know you're worried about that little girl. Hey, I've got two girls of my own. But she's safe outside with Jill. So, if you don't mind me asking: what's got you so rattled?"

Claire dropped her gaze. Was it so obvious that she was worried about more than Sherry?

"It's…it's this guy," she admitted.

"Ah-_ha_," Barry said with a nod. "Guy problems."

"No!" Claire retorted. "He's the one I came to Europe with, Leon Kennedy. He's the only surviving RPD officer. He saved my life back in Raccoon City, but…um…"

Barry raised a questioning eyebrow. "And where's this Leon guy now?"

"I don't know," she said. "He left to find the person who did that…that thing in our apartment. If Leon comes back and we're not there..."

"Oh, we'll find him," Barry said cheerfully. "And we'll have plenty of questions to ask him, too." he paused, mulling over his next words carefully. "Claire, you didn't…ah, didn't tell Chris about this Leon guy, did you?"

She shook her head. "He knows, but I haven't told him much. Chris wouldn't understand. He'd get the wrong idea and probably go after Leon with a rocket launcher." Now _that _was a funny thought. Claire smiled in spite of herself. Funny how Chris tried to protect her, ever after all these years. Which reminded her... "How did you guys find us, anyway?"

"Well, we've been in Europe for about two months," Barry said. "But about a week ago, we got this call from a lady named Viviane. She said she was a former Umbrella spy who wanted to help our investigation. She gave us the address of this place and told us to contact her here. But she's nowhere to be found, is she? Well, another weird thing about this lady was she mentioned something about _you_ being in Europe. Funny thing was, she warned us not to try to find you. Never gave a good reason why, though. But you know Chris. He wasn't about to listen to someone he'd never met face-to-face. So we tracked you down anyway. And the rest—Hello, what's this?"

Barry looked over Claire's shoulder, his attention stolen by something he saw across the hall. Claire turned to see what he was looking at, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just a pile of books and boxes scattered by the wall. Barry strode across the room and plucked something from the floor. "Wonder how this got here? Hmmm…the safety's off."

"Lemme see that!" Claire dashed over. "It's…it's a…"

"A Heckler and Kosh VP70," he said confidently. "Lovely little piece of work, isn't it? Compact but very powerful. You gotta appreciate craftsmanship like that. But who left it here?" Barry handed her the gun, which Claire turned over in her hand, searching for answers.

H&K VP70…wasn't that the kind of gun…?

"Leon—this can't be!" Claire turned to Barry, only to find he'd left her side.

"Claire! Look at this!" Barry was crouched in the middle of the hall's marble floor, examining a chip in the stone. "See here? It was made by a bullet. Could be from that gun." Barry lifted his head and gazed intently at the opposite wall. "Just as I thought: a bullet was fired into the wall. See the hole it left?" he stood and walked over to the stone wall. After a few seconds, he managed to dig a bullet out using his pocket knife. "Nine millimeter. Same kind of rounds that H&K uses."

"Oh…oh shit," Claire turned away from Barry, the gun still clutched in her shaking hand. "Leon came here. But now he's..."

Viviane. Leon had said something about a woman named Viviane. Who the hell was she? What did she want from Leon?

"Hey, Claire!" Chris came down the main staircase, followed by a petite young woman with short brown hair. They both carried a pile of folders and files.

"Whoever was here left in a big hurry," he said. "I don't know what's going on here, guys. But maybe there's something in these files…"

* * *

A few minutes later, the .R.S. team, Claire and Sherry were assembled in a small study near the main hall.

A woman wearing a well-worn black beret approached Claire. "You must be Claire. Nice to meet you. I'm Jill," she shook Claire's hand and smiled warmly. "Your brother talks about you all the time."

"He does?" Claire glanced at her brother.

Chris just sighed and handed a folder to her. "Somebody's been watching you, sis. Take a look."

Claire opened the folder and gasped. Inside, every detail of the past month was listed: hers and Leon's habits, routine, even little snippets of transcribed conversations. These people had bugged them after all. But why? Claire swallowed hard and flipped to the next file.

Photos. A picture of her and Sherry walking down the street. An overhead shot of Leon, glancing nervously over his shoulder. "Aw, no…" she murmured. "Sweet fancy Moses. They were watching our every move."

"Damn sickos," Chris seethed. "Can't believe anybody would do this to my baby sister. Wait, who's that guy?"

"Oh, that's just Leon," Sherry said brightly.

Claire frowned at the girl. "Thank you, Sherry."

Chris scowled at his sister. "Right. Him." Claire bit her lip and looked at her feet. Her brother turned to Rebecca. "Okay Becky, what you got for us?"

Rebecca Chambers opened a thick folder and spread its contents on a nearby table. "I found these upstairs," she began. "They're medical records...of a sort. I think they were doing experiments here, but not the kind of stuff we've seen in the past. There's a journal of the 'subject's' progress." She quoted from a typed sheet of records. "October tenth. Ada's condition has improved greatly. The implant in her brain stem is not interfering with the original cybernetic enhancements on her spine. Soon, we hope to begin a complete memory wipe." Rebecca paused and glanced up at the others. "I don't like the sounds of this, folks…"

She read on. "October fourteenth. We expect that Ada's memories will soon be completely suppressed. Her re-training as an assassin has begun. She demonstrates great proficiency with a knife, but prefers to use her bare hands. Perhaps she was trained in those forms of combat previously? We'll probably never know, since Umbrella's files on her have apparently been destroyed. Some rather startling physical changes have also taken place. Ada refuses to go outside during the day and eats and sleeps irregularly. She appears frail, but her strength continues to grow." Rebecca flipped to another page. "October twenty-first. Ada made her first kill tonight. The executive in Italy. Everything went perfectly..." She trailed off, her eyes widening with growing shock. "My God. Chris, those killings we heard about."

"We've been set up," Barry growled. "I don't know how or why, but we've been set up."

"Who's going to end up taking the fall for those murders? Us?" Jill asked anxiously. "Why? What's going on here? Umbrella's behind this, I just know it…"

"Wait, there's more!" Rebecca presented Chris with a printout of various stats and charts.

He stared at it blankly. "Becky, I can't make heads or tales outta this science crap."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Claire sized up the petite girl, thinking her too demur and young to be of any use to the S.T.A.R.S. But Rebecca was supposed to be some kind of genius, wasn't she? "Look, this is another record of this Ada woman—of the things they did to her to turn her into…" Rebecca paused again, seemingly unsure of herself. "Uh, you guys remember that movie _The Manchurian Candidate_?"

"How so?" Jill put in, looking over her teammate's shoulder.

"Well, for one thing, this lady's mentally unstable," Rebecca said matter-of-factly. "Amnesia was somehow synthetically induced. And from this information, it looks like these people were trying to change her into something other than a human, but not really a monster, either. Not the kind of monster we're used to." The others started at Rebecca blankly. "Okay," she sighed dramatically. "According to this piece of paper...everybody see the paper? Good. The woman in these records—if she's even still alive—has been reduced to a paranoid psychotic with spontaneous memory loss and amnesia. They were trying to turn her into an assassin, but one they could control in every sense of the word."

"So she might've been the one doing those killings?" Chris wondered.

"Maybe, but who really knows?" Rebecca shrugged. "None of this makes sense. This Viviane woman wanted to help us, but she's not even here when we show up! Umbrella's top execs are dropping like flies, and there's this insane murderer running around somewhere!"

"And where do we go from here?" Barry asked.

Chris handed a diskette to his teammate. "We found this upstairs, Barry. I ran it on a computer up there. There are coordinates for an Umbrella laboratory in Siberia on it. Here, I printed it all out." Chris withdrew a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He handed it to Barry. "Think we can get to this place?"

"I guess so…" Barry said after a moment's study.

"But how do we know for sure?" Claire demanded. "How do we know it's not a trap? We can't just rush in half-cocked, thinking we're going to find…what are we gonna find, anyway?"

"This just typical day for us," Jill said reassuringly. "Better get used to it."

Chris patted his sister on the back. "Welcome to the S.T.A.R.S., sis. If we seem like a bunch of crazies, it's because we are. Your life's going to be pretty interesting from here on out. Our motto is, 'every situation can be resolved with high explosives.' Ain't that right, guys?"

"I thought our motto was 'expect the unexpected'."

"Yeah right, Rebecca," Chris replied with a wicked smile. "It is _too _high explosives and you know it. Anyway, this Leon guy...?"

"Umm, yeah," Claire glanced at Sherry, then back to her brother. "He's my friend, Chris. One of the best friends I've got in this world. We made it through Raccoon City together and I don't know what kind of trouble he's in, but I have to save him."

"Okay, we'll look for him," he said. "We're heading to Siberia anyway and that's probably where they took him. _If _they took him. Listen, Claire. We have some people who can look after Sherry while we're gone. We trust 'em, don't worry." Chris turned and headed toward the main hall, motioning for the others to follow. "I don't know what's going on here, folks, but we're getting to the bottom of it. Right after we get out of this friggin' mansion…jeez, I hate places like this!"

* * *

"I won't do this anymore, Dimitri! Tell Viviane that. I'm sick of it. How...how can I get out of here? How can I save him?"

"I don't know. And frankly, I don't care."

The voices sounded distant, unearthly. They were nearly drowned out by a steady roaring sound. Leon wondered if it was some kind of engine, or maybe the ocean.

They were moving. He could tell that much. Maybe they were in a car, or on a train? Leon groaned and rolled over, kicking off the thin blanket some solicitous hand had placed over him. He struggled to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt heavier than lead. Leon ran his hand across his face, and found it covered with sweat and coarse stubble.

_Oh right, I was drugged._ He might've been unconscious for hours, or even days.

Dimitri gave a short laugh. "Why, I do believe our guest is waking up."

"Leon!" her voice sounded raw and tired. "Oh, Leon. I'm so sorry."

The sudden pressure of her hand against his chest sent a shock of awareness through Leon's mind. He sat up and pushed Ada away roughly.

"Leave me alone!" he shouted. "Haven't you done enough already?"

"But, Leon—"

"No! Don't...don't even try it, Ada." Leon hissed at the pale woman kneeling by his side. She looked shocked by his anger. If she was going to start crying again… "Goddamn it, leave me alone!" Ada stared at him for a moment, fighting the sobs welling up within her porcelain throat. Suddenly, she jumped to her feet and rushed out a nearby door. The rusty steel door made a resounding slam as is closed behind her.

His mouth still curled in a snarl, Leon looked away from the door and glanced up at the man sitting across from him. He realized that he was sprawled on the floor, while Dimitri was seated on a comfortable-looking bench. His legs were crossed and a newspaper lay in his lap. The Greek man looked rather relaxed and almost seemed to be enjoying himself. He stared back at Leon, a wistful smile written across his bronzeed features.

"We're on a train, right?" Leon asked.

"How observant," he responded coldly. "Welcome aboard the Trans-Siberian Railroad, once the pride of Mother Russia. Now just another testament to the failures of Communism."

"Jeez, pessimistic much?" Leon murmured as he glanced around the car. It was empty, except for him and Dimitri. The walls needed new paint, and most of the metal surfaces were covered with a thin veil of rust. Judging from the tables and lace curtains that hung across the dirty windows, this had once been a dinning car. But most of the seats had been removed and time was taking a cruel toll.

It was chilly in the car. Leon could see his breath in the frigid air. He leaned against the wall and drew the threadbare blanket around his aching body. There was nothing more he could do, except try to keep warm.

"Sorry about the cold," Dimitri said insincerely. "But Viviane decided that she liked that overcoat you were wearing. And by the way, I am not pessimistic; I am realistic. But that doesn't mean I am needlessly cruel. For example, you are our hostage, and we don't want you dying before we need you to."

Dying before they "needed" him to…

Leon shuddered. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying," Dimitri said tersely. "Is there anything I can get you that would make you more comfortable? Some food, perhaps?"

"Nah, it'll just make for a messier autopsy."

He laughed softly. "Come now, there must be something...wait, I know." Dimitri stood and left the car, quickly returning with a parka in hand. "We had to dish out quite a few rubles to get this car all to ourselves, my friend. But we don't need the prying eyes of the public watching us," Dimitri said as he tossed the coat to Leon. "It should fit you. There's some gloves in the coat pocket, I think. I'll see if I can find some boots lying around."

"Fuck you," Leon hissed under his breath.

Dimitri just shrugged and headed for the front of the car. "We passed through Zaozernyy a few hours ago. It won't be long until we reach Tayshet. That's our stop. And then…" He chuckled as he slammed the door behind him.

Leon struggled to his feet and staggered to the door, but it was locked. The door at the other end of the car was locked, too. He was trapped again.

The train sped onward toward…toward what? His death? After surviving Raccoon City, was he going to die now, at the hands of some arrogant Umbrella spies?

With a weary sigh, Leon sunk into a nearby seat and gazed vacantly out a window. The scenery seemed to speed by faster and faster with each passing minute. There were sparse forests and mountains, as well as an endless expanse of gray sky. But there was little snow. This could not be the spot. Not yet.

He heard his father's voice echoing in the back of his mind.

_I always knew you'd never amount to a damn thing, boy._

"Claire, I'm sorry," Leon whispered. "I'm sorry I left you and Sherry. I was such a fool to fall in love with her. And now I'm gonna die for it. But you don't need me. You were always the stronger one. So I guess it all works out in the end."

* * *

Outside was even colder than the train. Leon had no choice but to put on the parka. But he resented every iota of its warmth. He wanted nothing from these people, especially not comfort.

The snow was coming down in fat, wet flakes, and visibility was deteriorating fast. An icy wind blew over the train station, howling with a vengeance. Leon saw the faint outline of buildings in the snowstorm. The roar of other unseen trains permeated the squall, and faint voices shouted in the distance. But the whole scene seemed like a dream; blurred and vague, and hardly remembered in the light of the day.

Leon quickly scanned the small station, looking for a chance to run.

"Don't even think about it," Dimitri's voice crept up behind him like a menacing animal. "Our agents are staked out all around this station. If you try fleeing or calling for help, you'll be shot down like the dog you are. We don't want that, now do we?" He motioned toward a convoy of trucks idling nearby.

Viviane was waiting for them with a triad of bodyguards at her side. More Umbrella spies who'd defected, perhaps?

Ada was not among them, Leon noticed. They looked deadly serious and glared at him with a fiery hatred in their eyes. Leon glared back with equal resentment. Looking into their dark weather-beaten faces, he hated Umbrella more than ever.

But Viviane remained her usual genteel self. She smiled her lovely apologetic smile and said, "I trust your trip went well?"

"That's my coat you're wearing," Leon responded.

"Yes, and you'll soon be dead," she said cheerfully.

But before she could say another word, Leon lunged forward and planted his fist soundly into Viviane's jaw.

He heard himself screaming as they pulled him away. The sounds he made were not even words. Through the dark jumbled of arms and anrgy faces, Leon saw Viviane sprawled upon the snow. She wasn't moving. Dimitri was at her side, but didn't look too concerned. He almost seemed to be…smiling. Over the guards' shouts, Leon heard someone hysterically screaming his name.

Suddenly, Viviane sat up with a rather dazed look on her face. She absentmindedly touched her chin, and gasped when her fingertips came away bloodied. Viviane turned her electrifying gaze on Leon and snarled.

"You son of a bitch…you'll pay for that. And your little whore, too."

Was that some sort of sick attempt at humor? Well, he certainly wasn't in Kansas anymore.

"Just knock him out again," Dimitri shouted to the guards. "He's too… unpredictable."

The stock of an AK-47 rammed into the back of Leon's skull. The pain was beyond measure or limit. It traveled down his spine, into every limb and cell of his being. The world was moving in a slow red haze. It seemed to take forever for his face to hit the snow.

* * *

"Raccoon City was only the beginning," Ada muttered angrily. "You'll see…it was nothing compared to what might be coming." She was sitting against a metal wall, with her knees drawn up against her chest. Dressed in a black bodysuit and flack jacket, Ada looked well-prepared for the Siberian chill. But she was shivering, nonetheless.

Leon noticed a handgun holstered at Ada's waist, along with a combat knife's sheath strapped to her thigh. Ada wore an expression of utter exhaustion, and her eyes were rimmed with red. Her face was paler than ever. But Leon now knew her frailness was deceiving. Wasn't this the same woman who's outmaneuvered and tackled him back in Viviane's mansion? Perhaps Ada simply didn't know her own strength.

But he'd have to deal with that later. Right now, escape was the obvious priority. From his own place on the floor, Leon figured that they were in a small antechamber. There were several doors, all bearing the red and white Umbrella logo. But he knew they were all locked.

Leon made a feeble attempt at a smile. "Come on, what could be worse than Raccoon City?"

She stared at him a moment longer, her face as unreadable as ever. "This place," she said. "We're in one of Umbrella's best-kept secrets: the Siberian cryogenics facility. The last viable sample of the G virus is stored here. I know, this room isn't exactly cold. This is just a corridor connecting the various labs and such," she said indifferently. "I guess the scientists used to come in here to warm up between experiments. That is, before Viviane's men killed them. I didn't help this time, though."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Leon hissed. "One life, a thousand lives. It makes no difference to a person like you."

"That's not true!" she cried. "I wasn't…I never wanted this…" Ada trailed off, at a loss for words. She looked blankly at Leon, then shifted her gaze to the Umbrella insignia emblazoned on a nearby door. "God damn them!" she blurted. "Viviane's going to steal the G virus and sell it to the highest bidder. She'll get filthy stinking rich, and full-scale biological warfare will become a reality. So what if Umbrella's going down the crapper? Their work will go on, all thanks to us."

"Wait, what the hell do _I _have to do with this?"

"You're just a pawn in her game," Ada said flatly. "We both are. It all started with the killings. Viviane wanted to create chaos within Umbrella by murdering their executives. That way, they'd be too focused on finding the killer and protecting their own asses to notice that their scientists in Siberia hadn't check in with HQ in a while. I was the perfect candidate for the job, I guess. Viviane's set everything up so Umbrella will never catch her. The blame for the murders, and for the loss of the G virus will go to the S.T.A.R.S."

"But why—"

"Let me finish!" Ada snapped. "This is the most important part. Viviane wants it to look like everyone involved in her plot acted of their own will and motives. She's wiped every trace of her fingerprints from this mess. But the S.T.A.R.S. were already a threat to Umbrella. All Viviane had to do was draw them into the open, make them come to this facility, and then trap them inside with a few cases of C-4. That's what was in some of those trucks you saw. We can't rely on the self-destruct sequence, especially since the people who had the activation codes are now dead. Viviane left some clues at her place n for the S.T.A.R.S. to find. Originally, she was going to use Chris Redfield's sister as the bait. We were going to kill her and throw her body outside the facility. And when the S.T.A.R.S. showed up…Well, don't you think that his sister's death would be enough to provoke Redfield and his buddies to attack? That way, the loss of the facility would be their fault, not ours. But the girl's gone missing. After we observed your closeness to Redfield's sister, Viviane decided that you'd make a good hostage, too."

Leon eyed Ada skeptically. "Gee, should I feel special or something?"

"You are special…to me."

"Liar!" he retorted. "If I'm so fucking important to you, then why are you an accessory to my kidnapping and murder?"

Ada sighed and stood from the hard metal floor. "I always suspected that anything I felt for you was in vain," she began quietly. "Now I know it for sure."

"Yeah. And now I know it, too." Leon got up as well, but kept his distance from Ada. "You know I'm not going to give up so easily, right? I'm gonna find a way out of here—with or without your help."

She nodded slowly. "I know you think I'm crazy, Leon. Hell, even _I_ think I've gone insane. But no matter what I say or do, I don't want to see you die. We're exactly alike, you and I. I could never hurt you…not of my own free will."

"You and me- the same?!" Leon snarled. "We're nothing alike, Ada. For one thing, you're nuts and, well, I'm not."

Ada laughed. But it was a hollow, humorless sound. It was the laugh of a madwoman.

"Always trying to hide behind your hero's mask, aren't you? Always lying to yourself. You're no hero, Leon. I'd never fall in love with a hero; I'd fall for a person who was just like me. And I did. You say you want to help people—'serve and protect' and all that. Bullshit. We're exactly alike on the inside, Leon. You're just trying to hide your anger under the do-gooder facade. But with me, what you see is what you get. And I bet you thought _I_ was the one pretending to be something I wasn't."

Ada was moving closer to him, one clawed hand hovering in the air. Leon again felt the impulse to flee, or push the creature away. Yet her face was as enthralling as ever. And her eyes were human. Human and beautiful.

"And what…" Leon said, taking in a deep breath. "What are we 'like' on the inside?" he asked.

"Broken, Leon," Ada crooned seductively. She extended her fingers and lovingly caressed his frostbitten face. "We could've gone our whole lives without really realizing it, or without finding each other. But in Raccoon City, fate gave us both a chance to change for the better, to fix ourselves. And I tried to change. I threw away my mission. I did that for _you_. I failed, but that doesn't matter. All that matters was having met you, and realizing that there's more to life than this mess. Leon, you were the best thing that...that ever…" Ada was overcome by sobs, and could go on no more. Instead, she closed the space between them and kissed Leon hard on the mouth. In spite of himself, Leon threw his arms around her and kissed her back, knowing it was probably his last chance—for real, this time.

"Oh, are we interrupting anything?"

"You…!" Ada whirled around to face the spies.

Viviane smiled, making a frightening show of her perfect teeth. "Were you expecting perhaps the Queen of England?"

Dimitri gave a quick wave to their hostage. "Sorry about having the guards knock you on the head again."

"Okay, enough talk. Let's get going." Viviane motioned for Leon to follow her. "You too, Ada." As if in a trance, Ada stepped forward and went to Viviane's side like an obedient pet.

"Ada, what the…!?"

"I'm sorry, Leon," Ada murmured mechanically. "I can't…she won't let me…"

* * *

They walked through countless passageways, each colder than the next. There was ice on the walls, and even on the ceiling. Everywhere, Leon saw the bodies of Umbrella scientists. Many were already covered with a thin layer of whitish frost. The pools of blood beneath them were frozen solid. At least one guard was stationed in every corridor. They were probably either more renegade spies or hired mercenaries.

Leon glared furiously at the tall woman walking beside him. "And where's your goddamn virus?" he demanded. All this trouble was over the G virus. More people were going to die, perhaps even more than in Raccoon City.

"We're still working on that," Viviane replied. "The only downside of killing all the scientists was, they never told us the access code for the G virus' containment room!" She obviously found this quite funny, and let out a boisterous laugh that echoed through the chilly corridor. "But we'll get the virus," she said confidently. "We will get it."

Leon shuddered, but not from the cold.

The next room they entered was huge, with bright fluorescent lights shining down from the ceiling. A metal catwalk ran along the wall, with various ladders and staircases to access it. Leon saw more doors along the catwalk. All were locked, doubtlessly.

Machinery and cargo crates were positioned all around the floor in a neat, methodical layout. Three corpses in the center of the room seemed out of place, naturally. But Viviane and Dimitri ignored them.

Leon's gaze lingered on the body of a young man. He couldn't have been much older than Leon was. He was lying on his back, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. A great deal of blood marred his youthful face and his white lab coat. The poor kid never even stood a chance. With a sneer of disgust, Leon looked away. These people hadn't deserved this, even if they were Umbrella employees.

Nearer to the entrance, six massive glass cylinders lined either side of the corridor. They were at least ten feet tall, with various monitoring devices hooked up to them. The cylinders were coated with thick layers frost. Leon couldn't see what they contained.

"The 'security system'," Ada whispered in his ear. "Don't ask me how it works. But if those control panels go haywire, it just might set off—"

"Ada!" Viviane shouted. "How many times do I have to tell you? Don't talk to him!" Ada turned away from Leon, mumbling something that sounded like "You bitch," under her breath.

As if by magic, four mercenary guards appeared by Viviane's side. One of the burly men whispered something to her.

She smiled. "Excellent, excellent. You know what to do now."

A guard came up behind Leon, twisting his arm behind his back, making him grunt with pain. Ice cold handcuffs were clamped around his wrists. Strong arms shoved him toward the front of the compound, closer and closer to a giant door that lead to nothingness.

"Wait!" Ada. Always there when it hit the fan. "Viviane, for the last time, don't do this! We don't have to kill him!"

Leon saw the two women bickering out of the corner of his eye.

"All the time and money I put into you," Viviane said, shaking her head sadly. "All those weeks of planning, training…and look what you've become. A failure. That's what you are, Ada: a failed experiment. And an experiment that's outlived its usefulness. Take her weapons and handcuff her." She motioned to the other guards, but kept her violet gaze locket on Ada's pallid face. "If you care for this man so much, Ada, then you may die with him."

"Wh-what?" Ada stared at Viviane for a moment, then quickly dropped into a fighting stance. Instinctively, her right hand reached for the gun at her side. But she never got a hold of it. Suddenly, Ada screamed and clutched at her neck.

"Ada!" Leon lurched forward, but didn't get too far. One of the mercenaries was holding a gun to his head.

Ada stumbled backwards and into the clutches of the guards. One quickly took her sidearm and knife, while the other slapped cuffs on her wrists.

"What's happening…I can't move…" Ada gazed helplessly at her captors, her strength gone.

Viviane jerked her head toward the front of the compound. The guards silently complied and began dragging their captives away.

"Good riddance," Dimitri muttered. He headed back toward the heart of the compound, a wide smile on his face.

"Oh, and Ada," Viviane called after them. "When you two get to hell, tell them I sent you."


	7. A nightmare comes true

_A nightmare comes true_

The law, cold and aloof by its very nature, has no access to the passions that might justify the cruel act of murder.

-Sade

* * *

Cold. So terribly, terribly cold.

Leon had never imagined how cold this place would be. The dreams had only given the barest impression of what it would actually be like. Him dying. Her dying. All his fault. Just like his father had said.

And Leon had seen it coming all along.

He cast a quick glance back at the facility, curious about its size. The complex was already fading into the distance. But Leon could see it was built into the side of a sloping hill, with only a small concrete building jutting out into the vast steppe. It was inconspicuous, even in this wasteland.

The snow wasn't deep, but walking was still difficult without proper boots. Ada was somewhere behind him.

He could feel her presence, though all he could see was an endless expanse of frozen whiteness. The horizon was indiscernible against the leaden sky. Leon's lungs burned with each breath he took in. It felt like his insides were going to explode. He started coughing and stumbled in his tracks.

"Hey, keep up the pace!" One of the four guards rammed the barrel of a shotgun into his back, knocking Leon face-first into the snow. The icy shock numbed him to the very core of his being. Almost instantly, he was yanked back to his feet.

"Move it!"

"That's what I'm doing, you fucking idiot!" Leon screamed at the mercenary.

The man responded by calling to his comrades, "Okay, I think we're far enough."

A pair of strong hands pushed Leon to his knees. Ada soon joined him, letting out a sharp cry as her legs collided with the frozen ground. Her face was stained with blood, but there were no visible cuts. Leon looked closer; the blood seemed to be coming from her eyes. She was crying blood tears. Leon held back a gasp as Ada turned her face toward his.

"Ada, is it really you?" he whispered.

Of course it was she. But Leon just wanted to make sure this wasn't all a dream.

"Leon..." Ada's voice was drained of energy. She was moving on instinct and adrenaline, but both those things were failing her quickly.

"Ada," he began softly. "I'm sorry...about everything."

She nodded as even more blood tears rolled from her dark eyes. A weak smile suddenly brightened Ada's pale features. "Don't be sorry, Leon. You're the best thing that even happened to me."

"That's enough, you two!" The guard's voice echoed in the icy air, signaling the end of everything. Leon heard the sound of metal striking against metal as the guards readied their weapons. He drew in one final shuddering breath, closed his eyes, and focused on the mournful howl of the wind.

"Leon." There was a sudden urgency to Ada's voice. "Leon…get down!" She rammed into his shoulder, knocking Leon down into the snow.

The world exploded in gunfire. He couldn't see a thing. Ada was lying against him, deadweight, and Leon couldn't tell if she was breathing. What if she'd caught a round? Leon gritted his teeth and tried to shoulder his way deeper into the snow. The bullets were whizzing close by his head. He could practically hear them tearing into the mercenaries' flesh.

"Ambush!"

"I'm hit—"

"Shit! _Run_!"

Suddenly, everything went still. Leon lifted his head from the snow and saw a dead man staring back at him. One of the guards, shot dead. The other was sprawled nearby, his arms and legs still twitching slightly. So his dream had come true, after a fashion. Two corpses lying on the snow, staining the surrounding whiteness with their blood.

Distant shouts. People were running through the snow. Leon craned his neck in the direction of the noise. The two surviving guards were fleeing back toward the facility. They didn't get far. Two more shots rang out, one right after the other. The men fell with a bullet in each of their brains. A sniper, perhaps? He tried to maneuver out from beneath Ada's surprisingly heavy frame. But without his hands free, there wasn't much Leon could do in the way of escaping.

"Ada?" No response. "Ada, you okay? What happened?" Nothing. She had to be dead. But he wasn't. The dream was wrong. Part of him wanted to laugh out loud. But if Ada was dead…

Suddenly, the weight on his back was lifted. A young woman's voice broke the frozen silence. "She's breathing. Must've passed out or something."

Ada. Still alive.

"Hey Jill, ya wanna release the snow bunnies?"

"Yeah, sure," another woman said. "Hold still. We'll have you out in a second." With a quick flourish by his rescuer, the frigid metal was taken from Leon's wrists. He felt his frostbitten hands hit the snow. His aching arms could barely hold his weight as he struggled to get to his knees. But the pain was a good sign; it meant the exposed flesh hadn't frozen. Slowly, Leon lifted his head to acknowledge his rescuers.

The first thing he saw was a monstrous gun, its long barrel just inches from his face. A PSG-1 sniper rifle. These people, whoever they were, knew what they were doing.

"You must be Leon," a gravely voice said. He looked up at the man holding the rifle, and gasped. The resemblance was unmistakable. The same brunette hair, the same bluish-gray eyes, the same tough, determined stare as Claire.

"Get up," the man commanded. "Assuming you can walk," he added before turning his back on Leon.

"Chris…Chris Redfield, uh, sir?" Leon was shocked by the hoarseness of his voice. It sounded almost like someone else. Someone he didn't want to think about. Not now, and not ever again.

Chris whirled around to face Leon. "Whadaya want, rookie?"

"Your sister," Leon began cautiously. "Is Claire safe?"

"Yeah," Chris snarled. "She's okay, no thanks to you. And that's _Miss_ Redfield. Man, you really are green aren't you? Running off on Claire and the kid, trying to be all macho and shit like that."

"Shove it, Chris," the older woman who'd taken off his cuffs snapped. "Leave the poor guy alone. He was only trying to do what's right." Glaring crossly at Chris, she helped Leon to his feet. Chris sniffed disdainfully and brushed the snowflakes off the front of his coat, subtly drawing attention to the fact that the S.T.A.R.S. all had sufficient winter gear, while Leon only had a parka and a half-frozen pair of jeans. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, Chris pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket. But he didn't take his gaze off of Leon for a moment.

"Don't mind him. He's just a big blowhard," the brunette woman continued. "I'm Jill, and that's Rebecca over there, tending to your lady friend."

Hearing her name, the younger, short-haired woman lifted her head and gave a quick wave to Leon.

"Hi," Rebecca said cheerfully. "She's going to be just fine. But there's something awfully weird going on with her…"

Leon staggered over to Rebecca's side. "Ada…I thought she was…" Lying against the snow, Ada finally had a rival for the frightful whiteness of her face. Her breathing was shallow and the blood tears on her cheeks had begun to freeze. Still, she looked more dead than alive.

Another S.T.A.R.S. agent was surveying Rebecca's progress. He was a tall, heavily built man, who looked like he could take down just about anybody. The ice caught in his thick beard crackled as he smiled at Leon.

"The last surviving RPD officer, am I right?" he asked. "You're a legend in your own time, sonny. Never thought we'd meet another fella who'd seen the same Umbrella shit as us. And speaking of Umbrella, what'd they do to this poor girl?" He motioned toward the pallid woman's prone body. "Her name's Ada, right?"

"So _this_ is Ada," Chris said with a laugh. "She looks worse than I expected, even for an Umbrella guinea pig." He glanced bemusedly at Leon, slowly twirling an unlit cigarette between his gloved fingers. "Don't tell me you've got something for this stiff, rookie."

Leon spun around to face Chris. How had they found out about Ada, anyway? Even if Chris was technically Leon's superior, he wasn't going to get away with insulting him. Fists clenched, he took one bold step forward. "Listen, you—"

"Leon!" Something grabbed him from behind, wrapping around his ribcage with incredible force. "Leon, don't you ever pull a stunt like that again! I'm never ever, ever,_ ever_ letting you out of my sight again!"

Leon cast a wary glance at Chris, then turned around to face his friend. "Hey, Claire."

"'Hey, Claire'?!" she cried. "Is that all you can say for yourself?" But Claire wasn't angry. Leon could see that in her sparkling gray eyes. She was deliriously happy and grinning from ear to ear. "Leon, you jackass. I still can't believe how friggin' scared I was. Not even in Raccoon City, I was never as scared as when I saw you walk out that door. I knew...I just _knew _something awful was going to happen."

"It's okay now," Leon murmured, still keeping an eye on Chris, who he already distrusted. "Claire, is Sherry okay?"

"Yeah…yes, she's safe," Claire said wearily. "But I'm just so happy you're—"

"Okay, enough with the touching reunion!" Chris clamped his hand over his sister's shoulder, practically ripping her away from Leon. "We've got work to do, folks. Freaky chick over there's still comatose, and—"

"Uh, Chris," Rebecca chimed in. "No she's not."

* * *

Ada sat up and looked around. She silently took in the guards' corpses, the blood slowly reddening the surrounding snow and the five newcomers who were staring at her intently. And of course, there was always Leon, blessedly alive. But who was that beside him?

The Redfield girl. Everyone began talking at once. There were a hundred things to do, a million other things that needed explaining.

But Ada didn't take her eyes of Leon and Redfield's sister.

"You belong to me," she whispered, her voice barely audible even to herself. "To _me_, not to her…" Ada glanced over at a guard's corpse, and slowly began reaching for the combat knife she saw strapped to his belt. Now was her chance to—

"Do you feel alright? Any pain or lightheadedness?" The young medic shone a small flashlight in Ada's face.

Ada sprung to her feet and growled, "Yes, I'm fine!"

After grabbing the knife, a discarded MP5/10 submachine rifle and extra clips from the guard's corpse, she turned to address the S.T.A.R.S.

"This is a trap; you're all supposed to die out here. There's an insurrection within Umbrella's spy bureau, and they're trying to destroy Umbrella and steal the G virus from this facility. You were just puppets in a rouge agent's plot. All of us were. But we can stop them. The spies will try to gain access to the G virus's holding chamber. They don't have the pass codes, but they'll figure something out. We can still get to the virus first and destroy it. Maybe we'll even get out alive."

"Really?" Chris said skeptically. "How do we know this isn't just another trap? Maybe this was their plan all along, to have you lure us in."

Ada frowned at him, fastening her dark gaze on Chris' face. She started at him for only a few seconds, but that was enough, and Chris looked away.

"You _must _trust me," Ada insisted. "They tried to kill me, didn't they? Why would I want to help them? This is my defection from Umbrella. Look, I'll even take point." Ramming a fresh clip into her gun, Ada began the long walk back to the facility.

"Ada!" Leon started after her, but Claire stopped him.

"It's not worth it," she said.

Leon ignored her. "Ada, stop! Don't go alone!"

But she didn't slow down. She didn't even look back. Suddenly, Ada broke into a sprint, soon becoming a black shadow against the bright landscape.

"Ah, that's a cryin' shame," Chris said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Okay, people, you heard the lady. Let's move out."

The others started toward the facility, checking their weapons and gear as they went. Leon was about ready to follow Claire when Chris called him back.

"Hey, rookie! I suppose we should make you an honorary S.T.A.R.S. member or something." Chris walked over to the other mercenary's body and pried an MP5 submachine pistol from the corpse's grip. He shoved it at Leon's stomach disdainfully. "You survived Raccoon City. You damn well be able to fire a gun."

"I do," Leon snarled. "And quit calling me 'rookie'."

"I'll call you whatever the hell I want, rookie." Chris replied coldly. "Are we clear on that?"

Leon took in a deep breath of the frosty air, murmuring as he let it out again. "Yeah…yes, sir."

"Great," Chris smiled, but his eyes were still roiling with anger. "Now let's go open up a can of whoop ass on those Umbrella bastards."

* * *

With a knife clenched in one hand and the heavy MP5 rifle in the other, Ada slowly glanced around the corner. The hallway was clear. Viviane's mercenaries had already taken out the security cameras. The only thing Ada had to fear were the guards. That, and Viviane herself.

And she _did _fear her, more than any monstrosity or walking corpse she'd ever encountered.

_Damn her! _Ada mused resentfully. _Damn Viviane and her lies! She's no better than Umbrella. _I'm _no better than Umbrella. What a fool I've become._

Pushing her rage aside, Ada continued down the corridor. There was any number of doors to chose from, but which would take her to the G virus? She had to get back to the main entry area. From there, she could access the virus's holding chamber. But where exactly was that? Somewhere deep in the heart of the facility, she knew that much. But was it above ground, or built into the hillside? Ada tried to mentally picture the map of the facility. She'd seen the floor plan just hours before their first assault. The fastest route to the G virus room was clearly marked. But that recollection was already getting fuzzy. If only she could _remember_!

"Help…me…"

The voice was weak, pleading, but it startled her nonetheless. Ada whirled around, training her gun on the source of the noise.

"Please—help!" A wounded man staggered out of an open door, clutching his bloodied stomach. Judging from his lab coat and name tag, he had to be an Umbrella scientist. Ada gasped when she saw his injury. It looked like a chunk had been taken out of his side. Hollow point bullets, perhaps? Or maybe some of the experiments had gotten loose?

"Take it easy there." Securing her weapon to her jacket's back holster, Ada helped the scientist to sit. "How'd you escape?"

"Just…just lucky, I guess," he mumbled. Blood was coming from his mouth and nose. He wouldn't last much longer. "You're not one of them?"

"No, no I'm not." And for once, Ada knew she was telling the truth. "Tell me, have any creatures gotten out?"

"N-not…yet." The scientist coughed, bringing up more dark blood. "Please, you've got to help me. For the love of God…"

"I'm sorry." Ada shook her head. "Your wound's too bad. I wish I could help." She also wished that she knew more about saving lives than ending them. "The pass codes for the G virus holding room: what is it? Do you know? How do I get there?"

"The virus..." He gagged again, splattering blood onto the front of Ada's flack jacket. "Get to the main chamber…through the door over there." He motioned weakly toward the far end of the corridor. "Head toward the core of the lab…through the big double doors in the back. Go down the hall until you can't go no more. You'll see…two panels. Use the one on the left. Right one's just a dummy."

"Yes, but the code—"

"We were always so lonely out here," the scientist interrupted. "So cold, so lonely. We didn't matter to Umbrella. The attack…we weren't ready. Because they didn't care enough to send—"

"I know all of that!" Ada cried. "Please, the code!"

"Alone," he whispered. "It's how we lived. It's how we'll die. Alone."

Ada nodded slowly. "I understand. I understand more than you'll ever know. Thank you." She rose and drew the MP5 from her back holster. Pointing it at the dying scientist's face, Ada said, "This is all I can do for you. I'm sorry."

* * *

"Okay, we're in," Claire said under her breath. "Now what?"

The S.T.A.R.S. surveyed the facility's massive main chamber. There were too many doors to chose from and a whole other second level accessible from a catwalk that wrapped around the room. And what about those six cylinders in the middle? Barry suggested blasting them open to see what they contained, but the others had shouted him down.

"Jeez, it seems like a good idea to me," he mumbled. The S.T.A.R.S. silently passed three researchers' frozen bodies and came to the center of the huge chamber.

"This is weird," Jill said warily. "Where is everybody? I thought this place would be crawling with guards."

"Maybe they're all looking for the G virus." Rebecca suggested.

"All of them? Well, we'd better split up," Chris said. "And let's hope we don't run into any trouble. The G virus is probably at the center of the facility. Head toward the back of the building. Claire, Jill, you're with me. We'll search the upper level. Barry and Rebecca, you check this room, then the rest of the ground floor. Take the rookie with ya. We'll use the radios to keep in touch."

Chris and his team headed for the nearest set of stairs while Leon straggled behind Barry and Jill. Where the hell was Ada?

_Don't worry_, she'd told him on that seemingly long-ago autumn morning. _I'll find you._

"I still wanna check those big cylinder things," Barry called to him. "There's something screwy about them. They seem out of place…"

Leon walked over to the nearest glass enclosure, and cautiously raised his hand to wipe off the frost.

_BAM!_

A bullet struck the control panel, just inches from Leon's side. He spun around to face his assailant. Barry and Rebecca were racing toward him from the other end of the room, weapons drawn.

"Who fired?" Rebecca shouted.

Leon scanned the room but saw nothing out of place. There were plenty of big wooden crates; good cover for the gunman. "I didn't see—" he began. Just then, a tall shadow rose up from behind a cargo crate. It was Dimitri. He waved at Leon and laughed before diving behind another box, and out of view.

Another shot rang out. Leon was perilously close to the control panel when it exploded in a shower of white sparks. He threw his arms in front of his face just in time. The explosion sent Leon reeling to the floor. But the others were by his side in a second. Barry fired in Dimitri's direction, but the spy was already gone.

"I'm okay," Leon was a bit shaken, but got to his feet without assistance. "I—"

The sudden hiss of escaping air echoed through the room.

"The cylinders!" Rebecca cried.

Leon glanced toward the glass structures, but the corridor was already filing up with smoke from the exploded control panel. And a strange mist was emanating from the cylinders themselves. Soon, almost half the chamber was filled with vapory smoke.

"Head for the stairs!" Barry hollered over a series of mini-explosions. "I don't know what that guy hit in there, but—"

Then came the first noise, the first indication that something was terribly wrong. It sounded like a groan, but it was low and guttural. Definitely not mechanical. Other sounds followed. A subtle clicking. The faint, constant sound of air being sucked in and out of something's lungs. A muffled chorus of moans rose out of the thick smoke. Things were moving, sniffing the thick smoke. The "security system" was activated, and coming right for them.

"Run!" It was Rebecca's shrill voice, full of dread and panic. Leon turned and saw his teammates already bolting for the stairs.

"Come on!" Barry urged. "We've got to find the others! We'll deal with this later!"

Leon started to follow, but a sickeningly familiar sound stopped him dead in his tracks. It was the sound of flesh being torn apart and eaten. The scientists' corpses…

A monstrous, unnatural shriek ripped through the smoky room. The things were done with their first meal, but weren't full yet. The clicking sounds were getting closer. Dark shapes, moving close to the ground, were advancing through the hazy air. Before he got a better look, Leon turned on his heel and sprinted toward the stairwell. Barry and Rebecca were still shouting to him. No matter how fast he ran, the stairs seemed to be getting further and further away. The young medic suddenly pointed at something behind Leon, and screamed.

He heard it closing in behind him. The creature's all-too-familiar screech inundated Leon's ears. The stench of putrid flesh on its breath was overpowering. It would have him gutted in a second, once it got a hold of him. Barry aimed his Colt Python toward creature, but he couldn't fire without hitting Leon.

Leon closed his eyes and made a final desperate lunge for Rebecca's outstretched hand. The licker let out another shriek, but this time, it was a cry of pain. Leon collapsed against the metal stairs and turned his head just in time to see the licker writhing in its death throes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a vague figure darting behind a cargo crate. Not Dimitri, but the shadow's movements did seem familiar.

Another pathetic wail from the dying licker grabbed Leon's attention. A dark pool of blood was forming beneath the monster, and its thrashings were becoming slower. There was something strange about the creature, other than the fact that it was a bio-engineered killing machine. Was it just Leon's imagination, or did that licker have..._fur_?

"Thanks, Barry," he gasped. "I owe you one."

"But it wasn't me," the older man said. He gazed at his unfired Colt revolver. "It wasn't me!"

"There's still five more where that came from," Rebecca pointed out. "Get ready guys." She readied her sidearm like she'd been using guns all her life. But Leon could see she was scared stiff. No more than a child she was, and terribly afraid of dying.

The moans and feverish breathing were getting closer. "Okay, gang," Barry whispered. "We don't have time to figure out what happened back there. We'll make a run for the catwalk, then—"

Yet another monstrous battle cry split the air. But this time, it was not a licker. A dark figure sprang from the shadows, landing just a few feet from Leon. It walked like a person, but it was far from human. Ada's right arm was covered in blood; she'd somehow ripped a licker's back open with her bare hand.

"Those double doors in the back of the chamber," Ada said. "Go through them. Go all the way to the end of the hallway. Use the left control panel. The pass code is 'alone'."

"What about you?"

"I can take care of myself, Leon," she said calmly. "I'll cover you."

"I'll stay and help her," Barry offered.

"You'll only get in my way," the pallid creature hissed. "Destroy the G virus. And don't worry about this place going sky-high. Viviane doesn't know you're here yet and hasn't given the order to set the C-4. That, and I already killed the mercenaries guarding the charges."

Leon's teammates quickly complied, making a run for the far-off doors. But Leon didn't budge.

"Didn't you hear me?" Ada shouted. "Go! I can handle this alone. I _want_ to handle this alone!"

"I'm not leaving you again, Ada—"

"Are you worried about me dying?" she demanded. "That's very considerate of you, but we don't have time for this." Ada motioned toward the monsters growling in the shadows. "They're still groggy from their cyro-sleep. I can kill them before they've fully revived."

"Leon!" Barry called from the back of the chamber. "You comin' or not?"

Leon's gaze shifted from Barry and Rebecca, then back to Ada. "No," he muttered. "No way. I'm staying with you, Ada. We started this together—"

Just then, the next creature sprang from the smoke. It wasn't a licker. It was built more a gorilla, but with reptilian features. Leon thought he heard Rebecca shout something that sounded like, "Hunter!"

Like the first licker, it too had coarse fur. With a motion that was all power and no effort, Ada shoved Leon aside and met the monster head on. The thing drew back its clawed hand to swipe at Ada, but she was faster. Before it could react, the creature had a knife plunged between its ribs. Ada twisted the weapon before pulling it out. The monster staggered backward, but quickly made another rush at Ada.

"These things are easy to kill!" she shouted to Leon. "You just have to know..." The hunter struck at Ada again, but she ducked and rolled out of harm's way. Back on her feet in an instant, she drew the MP5 from her back holster, clicked the safety off,and fired away. "You just have to know their weak spot!" And the hunter's weak point was obviously its head, the contents of which splattered all over the concrete floor as it fell.

"Wow," Rebecca whispered. "She's good."

"C'mon, you cowards!" Ada screamed to the hidden monsters. "Let's see what you're made of! Kill me, or die trying!"

"Wow," Barry echoed. "She's completely nuts."

Leon looked on, his blue-green eyes going wide as he watched Ada stalk into the cloud of smoke. Calling to her would do no good; she wouldn't listen, anyway. The creature's shrieks were suddenly mingled with gunfire and Ada's own laughter.

_She loves this_, Leon realized. S_he's a goddamn murderer and she loves it. Christ, you can really pick 'em, can't you_?

Suddenly, Ada's MP5 flew out of the haze, landing with a crash on the hard floor. She was weaponless, at the mercy of those things. Or so Leon thought.

"C'mon!" he shouted to his teammates. "We've got to help!"

"Yeah, right," Barry said. "I ain't risking my neck for that woman. Hate to break it to you, buddy, but she's just like those monsters."

"I know that!" Leon turned toward the hazy side of the room, where the sounds of battle still raged. "But I can't just let her die…I promised her..."

Ada suddenly emerged from the thick smoke. The blood covering her arms, face and chest was not her own. "I told you I could handle it alone," she hissed.

"But—but…" Leon stammered. "Your gun."

"I threw it away," she replied. "I didn't need it." As if to solidify this point, Ada made a fist with her blood soaked hand. No, not a hand. The talon of a merciless predator. She brushed past Leon, and knelt by the corpse of her first monstrous victim. Barry and Rebecca rushed over, expressions of utter disbelief on their faces.

"She killed..._all _of them," Rebecca spluttered. "How…?"

Ada smiled faintly, turning her attention to the dead licker behind her. Suddenly, she brought her hand to her mouth and sucked the crimson liquid off her finger. The others shuddered; Leon thought he was either going to throw up or pass out. Ada seemed to be considering the creatures' blood, as she would any fine wine.

"These monsters were altered for the cold weather," she announced. "Their metabolisms were artificially regulated and slowed, and the fur was grafted to their skin."

"You could tell all that by tasting their blood?" Rebecca queried nervously.

Ada shook her head. "No, I already knew about Umbrella's climate adaptation experiments. As for this…" Ada held her bloodied hand in front of her, spreading her long fingers, as if in invitation. "I just like the taste." She headed for the rear of the chamber. Soon, she was nothing more than shadow, engulfed in the room's gathering haze.

"She likes the…the...That's _it_!" Barry roared. "I'm calling the others. Rebecca, you and Leon—hey! Where'd he go?"

Barry scanned the smoky room, but the young officer was nowhere to be found. Ada was gone, too.

"Perfect," Rebecca sighed. "Wait till Chris hears this. We lost the new guy."

* * *

He was running again, just like he had from Raccoon City. Leon had never stopped running from that night. It was just another thing to deny and bury inside himself, just like his confused feelings for Ada. Just like his distant past that, in a way, had propelled him toward this damned existence in the first place.

All the way to the end of the hall, Ada had said. The control panel on the left, with the password "alone". It better not be another lie, or they'd all be dead soon enough. The concrete corridor was so long; Leon couldn't even see the end. But he ran on, just like he had in Raccoon City. Just like he'd run from Ada a few minutes ago. Just like he'd run for all those terrible childhood years. And what would finally get him in the end?

The others were surely looking for him by now. Claire would be going out of her mind with worry. Chris would probably swear a blue streak and say something like, "damn rookie's still tryin' to be a hero!"

But he was no hero.

Eventually—fortunately—Leon reached the end of the cold hallway. He saw the two control panels, one mounted on either side of the massive steel door. The left one, not the right…

The panel had a simple keypad, similar to the Umbrella security systems he'd encountered in the past. Leon tapped each letter, watching the word spring to life on a digital display. A-L-O-N-E.

He pressed the "enter" key, and waited nervously for the computer to register.

"Pass code accepted," a flat, mechanical voice announced from a speaker. The door's electronic locks opened with a sharp hiss. Cautiously, Leon pushed the heavy door open and peered inside the chamber. It was bright inside and incredibly cold. The air was dry, and the only moisture hung a few feet from the floor in a crystalline fog. Machines hummed, working to preserve the epitome of Umbrella's arcane science. The G virus was caged here on the edge of human civilization. It was lying in wait for the time when it would run rampant again. It was waiting for some maniac like Viviane to let it out and spread it to the whole world.

Leon approached the virus's holding apparatus, trying to find a way around the tangle of tubes and imposing metal surfaces. The vial itself was encased inside a thick tube, much like the ones the monsters had been in. Metal claws held the tube upright. It was only a matter of lifting the barrier and unhooking the supports.

He glanced around the room, until Leon's gaze fell upon the forgotten MP5 still clutched in his hand.

The glass would shatter, undoubtedly. If it took out the G virus too, then it was less work for him. But Leon wanted to hold the vial in his hand before smashing it. He felt like he owed that to the people of Raccoon City.

Letting his police training take over, Leon took aim at the glass cylinder and fired. The tube exploded in a shower of glass and steam, but the G virus itself remained intact. Leon plucked the glass vial from the encasement's remains. It was no larger than his forearm, but quite heavy and incredibly cold. He wiped the thin layer of frost from the tube's surface to get a better look at the killer itself.

The G virus looked nothing like Leon expected. In this semi-frozen state, it seemed like a purple jewel, with shades of magenta and light blue echoing over the surface. It was beautiful, in its own strange way.

"You retrieved the virus," a refined voice called out. "Splendid."

"I got yer 'splendid' right here, bitch." Leon turned around to face Viviane, who'd just entered the chamber.

She smiled and put her hands into her coat pockets. "Careless fool. Now hand over the virus."

"No," Leon said flatly. "You'll never get your hands on it. I'll die before that happens."

"No?" Viviane cocked her head. "We'll just have to strike a bargain, then. Tell you what: when I sell the virus, we can split the profits and you can run off and live happily after ever. And I'll give you Ada, as well. I've no use for her anymore, but I'm sure you can think of a few ideas." She stepped further into the room, holding her ebony hand out to Leon. "Give me the vial, Mr. Kennedy. Think of what I'm offering you," she said imploringly. "Think of Ada. Think of yourself."

"I am thinking of myself." Leon lifted the vial over his head, held it for just a moment so he could see the look of terror on Viviane's face, then shattered it upon the cement floor.

"NO! You fool!" Viviane started at the purple shards scattered across the floor. It was her future, her hopes and ambitions, all smashed right in front of her eyes.

"Now you know how it feels," Leon began calmly. "To lose everything you have, to lose everything you are. Now you know how it feels to fail. And Viviane…guess what? I win."

Viviane's eyes flashed indigo lightening as she spoke. "No," she hissed. "No, you don't!"

Something else was in the room. It was a malevolent presence—a shadow creating darkness wherever it went.

Ada was charging at him, all semblance of humanity drained from her porcelain features. She rammed Leon into the wall and let him slide painfully to the floor. The MP5 fell from his hand, sliding across the floor, and out of reach.

"_Kill him!_" Viviane screeched. "Rip his goddamn heart out! He took the virus away! He smashed it! You son of a bitch, you don't even know what you've done, do you?!"

Leon only half-heard her ravings. He was too busy trying to detach Ada's clawed hand from his throat. "Ada…this isn't…funny," he gagged. "Don't. Please don't…"

"Yes, do it!" cried Viviane. "Kill him! Don't wait any longer!"

Quickly obeying, Ada loosened her grip around Leon's throat, but shifted her long nails to a different position on his neck. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she began to plunge her claws into Leon's throat.

He didn't cry out. Instead, Leon looked up into his attacker's dark eyes. She was still human in there. The blood tears were already collecting at the rims of Ada's eyes.

"Ada, listen to me," he begged hoarsely. "Is this what you've been trying to do all along? Is this what it's all about? Killing me? That can't be, Ada. You...you said you loved me. And I believed you." The nails were going deeper, breaking his skin and drawing blood. "So prove it to me!" he shouted.

She wavered for a moment, a look of confusion clouding her mask-like face. "Prove…? Prove what?"

"That you were…were telling the truth," he said with a painful grimace. "That night…how you'd never hurt me…how you really felt. Tell me Ada. Prove to me! Tell me it wasn't all a damn _lie_!"

The horrid blood tears were streaming down Ada's face, and her eyes sparkled with a new awareness. Her colorless lips wavered, then began to quiver. Her iron grip loosened, and she seemed to be on the verge of saying something.

"Ada," Viviane began irately.

A single gunshot cracked the cold air. Ada spun around just in time to see Viviane plunging to the floor. Blood was splattered against the wall, along with a chunkier residue. She'd been shot straight through the head.

Ada turned to look at the woman's corpse, then shifted her bloodshot gaze back to Leon. "Who did—" But she didn't finish her sentence. Ada suddenly screamed and keeled over on top of Leon.

"Ada! What?!"

A small throwing knife was sticking out of the back of Ada's neck. It wasn't lodged all the way through her throat, but the wound could still be mortal. Someone with impeccable aim had thrown it. Leon looked up at a new intruder who'd just entered the chamber. It was Claire. She said nothing, but silently signaled to her unseen companions that the coast was clear.

"No…" he murmured, shaking his head. "Claire, why...why did you do that? She never did anything to you."

Ada's blood was getting all over, sticking to Leon's coat. She was limp in his arms. Her eyes were glazed over and had the stare of one already dead. Perhaps there would be no return to life this time. Anguished, Leon pressed his cheek on the top of Ada's head. Even her hair seemed icy. But no matter. He'd soon melt the porcelain façade with his tears.

The other S.T.A.R.S. were approaching them. Viviane's corpse was sprawled on the cold floor, her regal black braids scattered about her bloodied head. The G virus was nothing more than glass and harmless purple shards. And Ada was dead or dying in Leon's arms.

"Hurry!" Rebecca rushed forward, her small medical bag swaying from her shoulder. "Claire, Barry, get her off of Leon! I've got to get that thing out of her!"

The others obeyed and laid Ada on her stomach.

Claire came to Leon's side, patting him on the shoulder. "She'll live, you'll see."

As the S.T.A.R.S. looked on, Rebecca slowly pulled the dagger from Ada's neck—it hadn't gone it too far after all—and opened the wound further with a scalpel.

"There's the little bastard," she murmured as she probed through the bloody flesh. "And…yoink!"

Something popped out of Ada's neck, landing with a clang on the concrete floor. It looked like a large computer chip, with spidery metal legs branching off from it. Ada shuddered and took a deep breath into her lungs. The slightest pink color began to return to her cheeks.

"What…how did you know where to find that thing?" Leon asked. "Which one of you killed Viviane?"

"Ask him." Barry pointed to a figure standing in the doorway. Dimitri. He smiled at Leon, and brandished a pistol—the weapon responsible for Viviane's death.

"I can tell you're surprised," the tall Greek said calmly. "But Viviane's plan has failed. I did not join Viviane with the intent to die. It's better to cut one's losses. I'll report her death to Umbrella and they'll never pin any of this on me. I told them," he motioned to Rebecca and Barry. "About the chip implanted in Ada's brain stem. It was her only weak point…beside her heart."

Dimitri strolled over to Viviane's body and kicked her onto her back. He pulled a dagger from his boot and slit the back of Viviane's neck open. With a deft flick of the wrist, another chip, identical to Ada's, popped out of the incision. Dimitri flung the strange thing to the floor, next to the one already removed from Ada.

"Those chips connected their minds, but Viviane was the dominant one," he said "She could control Ada's every thought and action, even her memories. But Ada was a bit too strong for her. Now that it's removed, Ada should be back to normal soon." Dimitri shifted his eyes away from Viviane's body and looked in turn at each of the S.T.A.R.S., meeting their gazes with his own. He lingered on Leon for a moment, as if he was about to say something important. But Dimitri did not. Instead, he turned to the remains of the G virus, shattered upon the concrete floor.

"You see this? All of this—the facility, the viruses, those monsters—is a byproduct of evil. But the true evil…" Dimitri pointed to the bloody chips. "The true evil is always within."


	8. Love's shadow

_Love's Shadow _

Here's the smell of blood still. All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.

-Shakespeare's Macbeth

* * *

"Sometimes there's nothing you can do," Ada said softly. "Sometimes it's better to do nothing at all. You have to…" she faltered for a moment. Choking back a sob, Ada forced herself to continue speaking. "You simply have learn to live with things like this."

Leon and Ada had been strolling through the old house for hours, like two ghosts. Ada wanted to see it one last time, she'd said. But there was something else, something terribly important, that needed to be said.

After Siberia, Dimitri and the surviving mercenaries had disappeared, but not before he gave the S.T.A.R.S. permission to spend a few nights there in the mansion while they arranged their return to America. He would go back to Umbrella, of course. But he wouldn't mention a word of this to them. And so, the S.T.A.R.S. were free to plan their future assaults on Umbrella.

Far bellow them, Leon could hear sounds of laughter and music. Everyone was joking and enjoying themselves in the west parlor. Rebecca was messing around on the piano. Claire and Chris were probably arguing over their money and who would get the window seat on the plane trip home. Maybe Barry was showing Sherry some pictures of his daughters, telling the girl how much she reminded him of them. And Jill…well, Jill was an interesting one, witty and introspective. Perhaps she was perusing Viviane's library.

But Leon wanted nothing to do with that, not while Ada was still on the mend. She didn't fit in with the others, and it burned her to the core of her being. Over the past few days, Ada had become more distant than ever, occasionally turning to grace Leon with a soft smile or light kiss. But she wasn't the same. Her spirit was broken.

"Tell me," Leon began cautiously. "What was it like? I've got to know."

"What was what like?" she said impassively.

Leon tried to find a better, more decorous way to say it, but there was none. "The murders," he said. "The assassinations. What was it like? It's obviously…harmed you in some way. This whole mess has. But what was it like for you?"

She turned slowly to face him, letting the dim hallway light play off her face. Ada never looked more alluring to him than she did now, in a semi-darkness of this ownerless mansion. Her face seemed softer, but still pallid and luminous. In fact, all her skin was slowly returning to its normal shade. Even the hardened tissue of her scar was relaxing, perhaps beginning to heal.

A slight blush came over her face as she spoke. "What was it like? You want to know if I enjoyed it, don't you? Well, I think I did."

Leon stared at her, plainly shocked. "But You weren't yourself when you killed those people. I mean, when you think about it, it wasn't really your fault. Viviane—"

"Don't say that name!" Ada cried. "Don't ever mention her again! Yes, I was her puppet, but I was a willing accomplice, too." She shook her head and pressed her palms against her eyes. "I remember. Oh dear God, I remember everything she told me. I remember everything about that night in Raccoon City, and my life before that," Ada sighed. "I'm horrid. I'm a monster."

"You think I care about your past?" Leon retorted. "You're free, Ada. You don't have to worry about Umbrella anymore, or that…that person who hurt you." He drew closer to Ada, boldly wrapping his arm around her waist. Leon's hand moved up the small of her back, until he found the scar resting under the fabric of Ada's shirt. The flesh there was so tender that Ada winced at his touch, and slithered out of his arms.

"So that's what you want," she began softly. "How predictable." She backed away from him, moving into the shadows.

Leon reached for her, catching Ada's wrist. "You don't have to run anymore!" he protested. "I want to…to take you away from all this pain. I want to give you a new life. A better life. You'll be so happy, Ada. I promise you that. We'll be together. We'll leave this nightmare behind for good!"

"Nightmare…" Ada echoed. She easily wrested herself from his grip. Despite all the damage her body had sustained, Ada was still incredibly strong. "The darkness, the night." She turned away from him, resting her hand against the stone wall. "I belong to the darkness, Leon. And that's the fate I want. This is the fate a murderer like me deserves. I thought I could change. I wanted to change for you. But it was a foolish dream." Ada glanced back at Leon, a sad smile creasing her pale lips. "Or was it really a nightmare? Just one long nightmare?"

"What are you trying to say?" Leon whispered.

Ada sighed painfully. "You can't save me, Leon." She stepped further into the darkness, leaning against the wall for support.

Leon wanted to run after her, to grab her and hold her and never let her go. But he knew that was impossible. She'd only break free again.

"I thought we were in love!" Leon called after her.

Ada turned her head, smiling at him one last time. "We were in love," she said. And then she was gone, swallowed up by the shadows. It was where she belonged.

* * *

Claire walked down the hall. She had to find Leon and tell him about their travel plans. They'd be leaving early the next morning, with or without Ada. Cautiously, Claire rounded the corner and continued down the next corridor. She had no reason to be afraid. There were no zombies or monsters here. Still, this place was so creepy. And that Ada woman...what did she want with Leon? Sighing inwardly, Claire pushed ahead.

Finally, she came to a small antechamber nearby a set of stairs. The room was furnished with a couch and small side table. But the most surprising feature was the large window overlooking the Paris skyline. And Leon was standing by that window, his hands gripping the sill. Outside, the indigo sky was completely clear and the moon was almost full. Every star in the sky seemed to be on display.

Claire went to his side and casually looked out the window. She said nothing. She was only happy to see that Ada wasn't present. Claire wasn't really sure to think of that woman, except that she didn't like her.

Leon finally broke the silence. "Y'know, I used to look at the stars all the time when I was a kid."

"Oh, that's nice," Claire said. "Why?" she asked, trying to be polite.

He shrugged. "Maybe I thought there was something out there, something better than the life I knew. Something bigger. Something…grander. I can't say what."

Claire nodded, but said nothing.

"But now…" Leon's voice suddenly took on a bitter edge. "Now I know better. There's nothing out there," he spat. "Nothing at all." He turned to Claire. "Please, I'd just like to be alone for a while."

"But I have to tell you about—"

"Tell me later."

Claire noticed that his eyes were rimmed with red as if he's been crying. As she turned to leave, she considered asking Leon what had happened to Ada. But another glance at his solemn face dissuaded her. Claire wouldn't ask him about Ada. Not now, and not ever again.

* * *

The End


End file.
